Homeward Bound
by SheyRicci
Summary: Sam's away from home, Dean's at home bored, and Kevin wants to run away from home. Because if Dean had just listened to Sam, everyone would be safe at home.
1. Chapter 1

Me and formatting on this site are never going to get along, so... I admit defeat, I cede, I give up, I quit...done, over...deal with it.

* * *

Kevin pushed spaghetti around his plate with his fork; boiled noodles, heated tomato sauce from a jar topped with meatballs from a frozen bag and canned parmesan cheese. Yay! He sighed, chin cupped in his hand. Well…beat fried hot dogs, right? He looked at the slice of yellow – might be lemon – cake (he knew better than to bring pie home) sitting pretty in a plastic container. All bought and cooked and prepared and served and consumed by…..himself.

Okay, yeah, for the first time in a long time – years – he felt safe. He liked it here in this bunker that his roommates – for lack of anything better to call them – called home. It was large and spacious, had any and all amenities one could think to ever need and he even had his own room. The library was awesome and the history to be learned from it was limitless but…. he was lonely. The brothers were hardly ever home and when they were…..well, no one would ever call them social. They returned to heal from injury or recover from some spell or hex or curse or lack of sleep or to research and Good God Amighty, did they luuuh-uf-uuvvee to research.

And as for friends or coworkers or family or associates - well sure, there was that red-headed girl but she didn't come by often, never stayed if the brothers weren't home and treated him like he was ten. Oh, and there was Garth…well…..fat lot of good he'd done protecting Kevin on the boat so, no, Garth need not apply for position of playmate. There was their resident in the dungeon but Kevin wasn't supposed to go anywhere near him, not that he wanted to, and there was Castiel but he'd gone out to live among humans.

Yeah, was his life fucked up or what? And when had it become so?

He sighed again and stabbed a meatball. He rarely went out, and when he did venture past the doors of his comfortable sanctuary, it was to go no further than the local library or the grocery store. Those advance placement classes sure had paid off! Why, he'd come up with an alias and believable address in order to apply and receive a library card all on his very own! Woot-hoot! The town was small, very small and he had no car to get to the next town…oh wait, yeah, he'd found an ancient bicycle. Woot. No woot-hoot, just…woot.

Could his life get any worse? Probably. Any better? Well…

Ohohohohoho! There'd been an addition to his staid, lonely life; to his 'duties'. In addition to calling and asking for, on-the-spot-I-need-it-right-now-no-it-can't-wait information and demanding, what-do-you-mean-you-don't-know-why answers, the brothers now called for and expected, you-don't-have-time-you-need-to-come-up-with-a-con vincing-lie-now back-up and alias support.

Yeah, sure, let me drop everything and stop trying to crack these words and codes and depictions also-known-as the word of god, while I ignore my murdering enemy in the dungeon, 'cause, hey, who needs to know if there are any more tablets harmful to all of mankind and the earth upon which we live and assure whatever backwards county sheriff you managed to piss off this time, you are indeed Feds or Marshalls or Homeland Security or CDC officials or whatever the fuck you dreamed up this time.

Wasn't that Garth's job?

Ivy League University education – here I don't come.

And if that wasn't enough to keep him occupied, demands for answers and explanation and history and lore from books and recipes and whatnot were forever being thrown at him. Find this, explain this, answer this, solve this. And oh! oh! hey Kevin, find a local store where we can buy this or steal that or obtain what we need to replenish our depleted restock of never-heard-of before, one-of-a-kind ingredients to make hex bags and spells and wards and sigils and symbols and antidotes.

Uh, hello? What part of one-of-a-kind, did they not get? If it's one of a kind, where the hell did they expect him to find more? And expect they did, right then and there. Oh yes, they were 'now' men. Both of them. And man, what they needed to carry with them or have on hand was endless, limitless and in constant need of being resupplied. If he wasn't researching, reading, shopping, brewing or cooking some cure or spell or curse, he was taking inventory and categorizing what killed what.

He'd naïvely believed he'd learned everything he needed to know about demons while on the run and hiding from Crowley. What a slap in the face to find out he'd barely scratched the surface of demon lore and knowledge. And that was just demons. The world in which the brothers lived…..well, he needed a life time of experience to gain as much information that either brother could rattle off.

Lamb's blood, silver bullets, rock salt bullets, spray paint, bronze or brass or silver daggers, angel feathers and blades, holy oil, dream root, salt, holy water, rosary's, flare's, flamethrowers...and on and on and on and etcetera and so forth. The meaning of wards and talismans and symbols and angel banishing sigils and tattoos and charms and incantations and summoning spells were all a jumble in his tired brain.

His buzzing cell interrupted his morose pouting. He sighed again. Which brother wanted what this time? He snorted, like he needed to even look at the phone to know. Wouldn't be Sam…no…Sam was away from home, the lucky dog. Dean was the one Kevin was stuck with at home, confined to the bunker by an irate, overset brother who didn't handle injury to his older sibling well. And it wasn't like Dean wasn't ok. Hell, he was fine. Little tender, a bruise or two, swollen joint here and there, the lumpy bump on his head had completely receded, and he barely walked with a limp anymore, only when first getting up after sitting for a lengthy while, so why the hell hadn't Sam taken his brother with him?

Kevin still didn't understand what had upset Sam so. Upset him so much that once Dean was awake and coherent he'd declared he needed some time and off he'd gone. No thought at all to Kevin. Didn't he think Kevin would have enjoyed the display of ancient manuscripts and books and scrolls? Did it not occur to him that something may have benefited Kevin in his never-ending quest to translate untranslatable script?

Apparently not and it wasn't fair. Kevin deserved a week off; deserved time away from the bunker and the brothers and the responsibilities and duties that had become his life. Dammit, he deserved something. Like time away from everyone's expectations and demands…he should have been the one allowed to go to the auction and bid on the book needed/wanted for the bunker library, with or without Sam. If Sam was so worried about Dean…he should have remained home with him. Not lay the ability to amuse and watch him on a teen-age kid who had no apparent hope of controlling a man who had no intentions of obeying or listening to anyone's orders.

What? They didn't trust Kevin to take care of himself and avoid trouble? Hell, he'd done just fine on his own when they both had, for whatever reason, been MIA. He should just pack up and leave. It'd be weeks before they even noticed he was gone. That'd show them! Aside from hot water and clean clothes and abundant food and heat and electricity and TV and internet and all those books to read, what did he have here anyway? Dean had shouted the walls down when he'd asked for a dog and really, he'd been a dick about it all. Well…he hedged...Dean hadn't said no to a cat, though Sam had mentioned Dean was allergic...so maybe two cats.

So, Sam got a week off huh? To himself? For himself? While Kevin was stuck home, challenged with a bored, restless, cranky Dean who texted him from three rooms away? Yeah, not gonna happen. Kevin grinned into his glass of milk as he responded to the text requesting his presence in the den. They had a den?

If this was home, he was quite sure he would run away. Far away. Far, far away.

***000***

Sam sipped his frothy sweet cappuccino while he eyed the warm croissant gooey with dripping icing and fat with warm apples, sitting invitingly on a plate at the tip of his fingers. He'd spent an enjoyable morning leisurely wandering around an exhibit of ancient manuscripts and scrolls and this afternoon, he'd attend an auction where those items and other books could be purchased. Was there a better way to spend the day? His mouth watered and he licked his lips in anticipation, dabbing a finger to scoop up some icing. He only indulged his sweet tooth when Dean wasn't around to tease him and by golly, he was going to enjoy every last flakey crumb, drip of icing and smidgeon of apple filling flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg.

His tablet connected to the coffee shops wi-fi and he logged on to his email account. Picking up his warm gooey croissant and taking a bite, he took a sip of coffee before making the hard decision which hand to free then set the cup down and clicked on the first email.

"Greetings, oh-wandering one, got that maple bookcase categorized you wanted done. Wood ladders are heavy. Dean helped me carry one up from the garage." _(photo attached of Dean standing on the top rung of the ladder) Sam scowled. What the fuck was the dumb ass doing carrying and climbing ladders? What part of, stay home, take it easy, and don't do anything stupid translated to, 'find and carry and climb a fucking ladder'? And if Kevin had done the categorizing, why had Dean been on the ladder?_

"Greetings, Kemosabe, your ever faithful sidekick Tonto reporting in. Got those silver bullets made you wanted. Guess what? Dean's teaching me to shoot!"_ (photo attached) Sam scowled. Dean was playing with guns? What the hell was the matter with him? What did he think he was doing?_

"Greetings, oh-youngest-Winchester, Dean's an awesome cook. That new garbage disposal works great." _(photo attached) Sam scowled. What new garbage disposal? I'm gonna smack him with his fucking hammer for touching potentially dangerous tools that could, you know, take a finger off!_

"Hey Sam, your brother is awesome with cars. Changed that tire in like less than five minutes!" _(photos attached) Sam scowled. What the Fuck?! I'm gonna break his fucking knee cap with the FUCKING tire iron for lifting something as heavy as a fucking car tire. And, uh, what the hell was he doing driving the car?_

"Hey Sam, nice day or what? Hope you got to enjoy it. Sun was hot but I made sure he had plenty of water." _Sam scowled. Dean had been outside? What the fuck could he have found to do outside?_

"Hey Sam, just wait 'til you get back. You're gonna love the new lighting in the library!"_ (photo attached) Sam scowled. Didn't Dean know they had no fucking clue how the electricity was supplied to the bunker or where it came from or why they had it? No, he knew. He just liked to do things to piss Sam off. And – again – the dumb ass was on a ladder._

"Wow, harder than I thought to keep an eye on him. He's like, never where I leave him. Whew!" _Sam scowled. What the fuck was he finding to do? Sam's parting instructions had been quite clear. Eat, sleep, watch porn. He shouldn't be leaving his god-damn bed._

"Dude's on a mission or quest or hunt or whatever to find a beehive." _Sam scowled. So that was what he'd been doing outside. If he even touches that beehive, (and find it he would, of that there was no doubt) I'll poke him with the same stick he used to rile those poor bees until he cries._

"Howdy Sam! Found it! Look at the size of this beehive?! How freaking cool is that? Dean thinks maybe he can make honey." _(photo attached) Make honey? I swear to God, I'm gonna lock him in the dungeon with Crowley._

"Hi-Ho Sam. You ever see a bee so huge! You think it might be an Asian Giant Hornet?" _(photo of bee in palm of hand attached)_ _Sam scowled. No mere bumble bee or yellow jacket or honey bee for Dean. Nope, course not._

"Gotta say, never thought the ole geezer could run so fast!" _(video attached, of Dean running, from a swarm of bees, screaming like a little girl.) Sam scowled. Served the son-of-a-bitch right, least I won't have to listen to him snivel. Hee-Hee! Good luck Kevin!_

"Okay, yeah so, ice, toothpaste, baking soda. Struck out! Dude sure did swell up." _(photo attached) Sam scowled. Was that a wrist or elbow or neck or all of the above?_

Sam sighed. Great, the congealed foam on the coffee rendered it no longer appealing, and the soggy sawdust formally known as his much anticipated croissant forced him to admit his snack was ruined. He dropped the pastry onto the plate, covered it with a napkin and pushed it away.

When he got home, he was going to relieve Kevin of his fucking camera phone.

He typed out a quick email informing Kevin of a tried and true bee sting remedy, equal parts vinegar, baking soda and meat tenderizer, guaranteed to quiet Dean's whines and whimpers – Kevin didn't deserve to suffer – and shut his tablet down. He was not going to jump to conclusions or call Dean or pack up and head home. He was going to the auction and bid on that book. They needed it. It was the entire reason he was in Scottsbluff, Nebraska and not home with Dean while he recuperated from being flopped around like a dog's favorite stuffed toy by a 300 lb. bar brawler possessed by an evil spirit.

'Cause really, how much trouble could a beehive be?

***000***

Sam climbed from the car, snagged his take-out dinner and fumbled for his key. All he wanted was to do was eat while it was hot, crawl into bed, and fall asleep watching TV. The auction had gone longer than he'd anticipated and he'd nearly left without waiting for the book to go up for auction. When it had, the bidding had started at a price that had made him choke. He hadn't expected to pay ½ as much as the opening bid! Dean was going to throw a fit he'd spent so much money. Aah, well, it had been worth both the time and the money spent. The book was an information gold mine that far exceeded Sam's expectations. He turned the TV on, munching on a piece of garlic bread as he took a chair at the table and sat down to remove his boots. Yeah….if he didn't head home tomorrow, he was gonna hafta visit the Laundromat, he was out of clean socks. He wandered into the bathroom, washed up, dressed for bed, grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table to eat dinner.

He was tired, but even in his exhausted state there was no way he could FORGET he was blessed with Dean as a brother. Kevin's earlier emails still taunted him and he just had to know if there were any more. He'd told Kevin not to call him unless Dean had lost an eye or a limb or a catastrophe, such as finding a dent in the car, happened. He'd failed to mention no emails.

The tablet was in the car and, too lazy to go retrieve it, he booted up the laptop. He turned the TV stations until he found news and flipped open the pizza box. He'd turned his cell phone off while at the auction and though he didn't expect any messages, it was never a good idea to remain out of contact with Dean for long.

No voicemails, no missed calls….just…..1, 2, 3, 4…25 text messages. From Kevin. All of them. Over a period, of like, two hours. Ruh-Roh...

()()()()

'Just to let you know, your tried and true magic cure all for treating bee stings? Yeah, epic fail man.'

'Is Dean allergic to anything?'

'You know….I think he is….allergic, I mean….to bees.'

'Yeah, yeah…..definitely allergic or something.'

'Wow….ER's crowded.'

'Let the waiting commence.'

'Patience is not a virtue he possesses is it?'

'Had to chase him out the door when he tried to leave!'

'Aanndd…..still waiting.'

'Temper tantrum much?'

'What is he? Two?'

'Yeah, epic tantrum, man.'

'No Nurse, he's not with me. I've never seen him before in my life.'

'One way to see a doctor? Yeah, pass out on the floor.'

'Gotta go see him and I don't wanna.'

'Good God, he's a big baby.'

'Correction – spoiled brat.'

'New nurse, he appears to like this one.'

'All's good, doctor's a chick.'

'Holy Shit! I didn't carry on like that when my finger was CUT OFF!'

'Sam, you there? Call me….'

'They wanna know if he has any allergies to medications?'

'They wanna transport him to Wichita.'

'He got something against flying?'

'Memo to self: DO NOT PISS HIM OFF – EVER!'

()()()()

Sam dialed Kevin's cell. He needed aspirin. A lot. Maybe the bottle. He should have known Dean wouldn't be content to remain idle at the bunker. Should have known, he would find trouble. Should have known he would ignore Sam's suggestions and demands and orders and teary-eyed pleas to remain home and take it easy and take his time getting back on his feet. No, he'd known, he'd just hoped….Aah well…an annoying Dean was an alive and counted for Dean.

Voicemail. Sam smirked, licking the garlic from a piece of bread as he waited for the end of Kevin's rambling rant so he could leave his message. So, Kevin was at the ER with Dean; Sam could easily guess the mood Dean was in. Served the little shit right. Kevin was always, Dean's oh-so-awesome, Mr. Cool Dude, the best….

Transport? Wichita? Fly?

Garlic bread was spat, not swallowed, beer bottle was up-ended, not drunk, pizza box was swept to the floor, sauce and cheese oozed into the carpet, papers scattered in every direction, phone dropped unheeded as Sam whipped the laptop around and frantically began to tap.

Bees. Asian Hornets. Bee hives. Huge bees or wasps or hornets. Reactions. Allergic reactions. Symptoms. Travel time by car from Scottsbluff, Nebraska to Wichita, Kansas.

"Kevin? Hey, yeah, it's Sam. Hey let me know where you are? I'm leaving now to head home."


	2. Chapter 2

"OW!"

"Sit still." Kevin muttered, tweezers in one hand, large sewing needle in the other. "You big baby." he plucked a stinger from Dean's palm. "And shut up."

Dean tried, a-serious-effort-try, to stop squirming, but….no, sitting still was not gonna happen. He gave Kevin a cocky smirk in response to the kid's glare of death and eyed the towel of ice sitting on the table next to him. Kevin narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, returning his attention to his work - removing the remaining stingers from Dean's fingers, wrist, forearm, and back of his hand. His left arm had taken the majority of the stings and he'd stopped counting after the removal of the 7th stinger, opting to swig from a bottle rather than pay attention to Kevin.

He had one free hand, Kevin not about to relinquish hold of his other, and he could either drink or hold ice on his arm. If he could grow as many hands at will as he wanted, when he wanted them, he could hold ice on every spot that stung _and_ drink _and_ let Kevin use his hand as a pin cushion _and _punch Kevin in the nose for doing so! Despite his fondness for mind-numbing alcohol, ice provided the better relief and he abandoned his beloved bottle with a look of longing.

He wanted to go lie down. His head ached, his throat was raw and his nose had an annoying habit of running. Kevin must have tired of his sniffling for he plopped a box of tissues on the table and, with a look, wordlessly ordered Dean to use them instead of the towel of ice. Dean gave a grunt, friggin' little runt had been hanging around Sam too much. He tried to make a fist, but both his fingers and Kevin's grip prevented the motion. He matched Kevin's scowl, more to ignore the pain the attempt had caused than with any real irritation he had with the kid.

His fingers were puffy, red and swollen…..had he been stung on each and every fucking finger? Jesus Christ! Who knew bee stings could hurt sooooo much? Damn nose…..huh….was that his tongue or his lip? He had a tongue, right? Huh, wouldn't know, couldn't feel it, couldn't use it, didn't feel his teeth with it. Wow…..so, he'd been stung on his lip? And his mouth was…..swollen? He puckered up to blow a kiss...and couldn't breath. His nostrils were blocked. Damn. He held the towel of ice to his face, the taste of the towel making him cough. Kevin yanked his hand down.

"Use. A. Tissue." Kevin said in disgust, without looking up. "Dude…." he stabbed deeper, the jab a bit harder than necessary. "Sit. Still."

Dean gave a non-committal grunt and buried his face in the towel of ice. Kevin was focused on his work, so other than an aggrieved sigh of capitulation; he let Dean have his way. By the sounds and grunts and groans, he'd say Dean was way too fond of his towel.

"Stop. Coughing." Kevin burst out, exasperated. "Sit. Still. Shut. Up. And. Be. Quiet." he might be irritated with Dean but he wasn't unaware of the situation. Dean was not being a dick just to amuse himself at Kevin's expense. He had in the beginning, sure, but not now. Now, the pain and discomfort was real. "And stop digging at your eyes. Scratching them like that won't help."

The only bee he knew of that left a stinger imbedded in the skin was a honey bee and these were no honey bee stings. He'd never seen such huge bees before and a quick search on the internet had identified what could be Asian Giant Hornets. Once he was done and Dean had gone on his merry way, Kevin would research bees a bit more. He had a couple Dean had killed while swatting at himself when they'd swarmed him. It was a good start. He couldn't find it within his heart to sympathize with Dean, who never should have bothered the hive to begin with, but oh-no, Mr. Can't-leave-well-enough-alone had to go and poke it – repeatedly, but he couldn't leave Dean to fend for himself either.

He grimaced, Dean's forefinger squeezed between his own, needle embedded deep enough to draw blood…yeah, no way to get at that stinger with mere tweezers. "Say, aah, you big baby…..you got a knife?"

"For what?" his eyes itched, their sockets dry and tight yet they constantly watered and man, his head hurt.

"Tweezers aren't gonna reach this one….needle ain't digging no deeper, but a knife….." his eyes widened when a scalpel was slapped onto the table. He didn't even ask where it had come from or how Dean had been able to procure it sitting at the table. It seemed the brothers could produce anything upon request. "Oh sure, sure…that'll work." he was hesitant to start slicing and cutting, not sure how his 'patient' would respond. He had no reason to worry; before Kevin had time to recall Dean hadn't protested being punctured repeatedly with a needle, the elder Winchester brother set the ice aside, picked up the scalpel and made the first cut. "DON'T DO THAT!" Kevin yelped. "GIMME THAT!" with a growl, he snatched the blade from Dean's hand and smacked his knuckles. "You…you…well, you're not supposed to do that!"

"Just get on it with so I can put something on these stings and go lie down. Ice ain't cutting it."

"Yeah…okay dude." Kevin dug with the tip of the scalpel, Dean tensed but remained still. "I'm not an expert on bee stings…I'll look it up when I'm done."

"Toothpaste." Dean announced. "How many more?"

"Couple is all….'less you got stung somewhere else?"

"Don't think so."

Kevin glanced up through his bangs, might be time for a haircut he thought as he blew his breath out in an attempt to dislodge them from hanging in his eyes. Was Dean slurring his words? How much had he drunk anyway? "Wow, you sure do swell up." he commented, then fell silent, concentrating on his work. "Okay, done….toothpaste you say?"

***000***

Kevin sat the table with an orange soda. It was past dinner time but he'd had pasta for lunch and though loathe to admit it, digging around in human skin and flesh had dampened his enthusiasm for food, so he'd sliced an apple into wedges to munch on while he identified the huge killer bees. He was exhausted and he hadn't done anything more than spend the day with Dean. How the hell did Sam do it day in, day out, every day, all day and not, you know, experience road rage or something? Kevin logged on to his laptop and brought up his favorite search engine. He'd expected to hear back from Sam but other than the short email with what turned out to be a useless suggestion, there'd been no communication from the younger brother; the prick.

How could a grown man carry on so about a few bee stings? Geesch. Ice didn't help the swelling, neither toothpaste nor baking soda eased the sting or removed the heat from the surrounding skin and after searching the entire kitchen for meat tenderizer, (who ever heard of such a remedy?), to make Sam's cure-all only for it to fail, Kevin admitted defeat. Not even the antihistamine he'd nagged Dean into taking had had any effect.

Dean was miserable and he wasn't faking his discomfort. His left arm, from fingernails to shoulder was swollen and red and every site where a bee stinger had been removed was inflamed. There were a couple on the back of his shoulder and one or two on his neck and no position he found to lie, gave him relief. Kevin had been relieved when Dean had gone off, painted in toothpaste and baking soda and Sam's recipe to lie down, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

Okay, click-clack, bite of apple, click-clack, gulp of soda, click-click, open, open, close, close, open…hmmm, maybe…no…more yellow, less orange, close, click-clack, damn, that was a good apple, organic, Sam had said, click-click-click, open….yeah…..that was a closer match.…..Japanese Giant Hornet….not much, if any difference between Asian Giant Hornet and Japanese…..huh….what was that? Whoa, wait a minute, hold on, back up, swing that boat around and pick me up 'cause I done fell off the inner tube…...

Injects large amounts of venom? Attacks nervous system? Damages tissue? Known to cause anaphylactic shock in allergic people? Can be lethal to non-allergic people? People stung more than 10 times should seek medical help? Get emergency treatment for more than 30 stings? Stings can cause renal failure? Multiple deaths occurred every year from being stung?

What the bloody fuck kind of bees were these?!

Snack abandoned, Kevin raced to Dean's room. He was sure there was nothing to worry about, Dean hadn't once said he was allergic to bee stings or anything else…..but…..well…..after commenting that nothing was easing the painful welts and ice wasn't reducing any of the swelling, he'd grown uncharacteristically quiet and gone off to lie down.

Wouldn't hurt to check on him, right?

"Dude? You asleep yet?" he didn't wait to be granted admission, just threw the door open. "Dean?" he switched on a light. "Oh. Fuck. Me."

Kevin had never seen anyone suffer from anaphylaxis before, had never seen anyone throw a severe allergic reaction to anything, but he was damn sure he was seeing one now. Swollen lips and nose, eyes swollen shut, cheeks puffy and red, shallow breaths, panted gasps, heaving chest. Curiosity turned to concern, concern to worry, worry to panic, and panic turned to frantic, out-of-his mind actions.

He herded and prodded and poked and dragged and maneuvered the much larger, heavier man on the bed until he got him on his feet, even if he did weave and sway and slump against the wall. Kevin ignored his incoherent ramblings about killer bees and vats of hot liquid burning his skin off and blamed it on his inability to speak coherently. It was Dean's apparent troubled breathing, his rapid pulse and racing heart beneath the palm Kevin laid on his chest to keep him upright that made the decision to take him to the ER an easy one.

Once in the car with the window cracked and fresh air blowing in his face, Dean revived and though he vehemently disagreed with Kevin's decision to take him to the ER, he gave Kevin directions to get there. He was bright-eyed with false sunny smiles upon entrance through the ER doors but it didn't last. They signed in with the tri-age nurse and took a seat in the waiting room and while Kevin gleefully ruined Sam's 'vacation' by sending him texts, Dean passed out and hit the floor.

***000***

Dean woke up with a pounding head, dry throat and aching body. Man, he hurt in every joint and muscle he had. Ow. He took a moment to gain his senses and gather information to determine the situation he was in. He managed to raise his head and though his eyesight remained blurry, he looked around; a hospital. Great. How the hell had he ended up here?

He plopped his head back on the pillow with a weary sigh and let his eyes close as he tried to recall what had happened. Details were fuzzy and out of order but...oh right. Bees. He'd been stung multiple times by bees and then…..? Huh, what had happened then? Something must have….okay, right, yeah….good….soooooo….nope, memory not coming to him.

The ER! He growled, shifting uncomfortably on the table…..he hated ER's. Being exposed for all to see, stretched out on a table with plastic cloths under his naked butt, covered by a thin, practically see-thru sheet; poked and prodded and pinched, stuck with needles…ugh. He still couldn't remember how Kevin had gotten him into the car or how he'd allowed the kid to drive him to the ER or why he'd walked in once he'd gotten there but it was obvious it had happened.

He remembered lying down on his bed because he hadn't been feeling well; his head buzzing and reeling and his chest aching but had he felt that bad he'd allowed the manipulation that had landed him here, naked on a gurney with a needle in his arm and chewing on a tongue depressor? Apparently. Huh. Okay, yeah, he'd been a little weak, little dizzy….head spun if he leaned forward or moved quickly but he'd had a concussion so not much of a surprise, except he'd been feeling no ill effects from that prior head injury until after the bee incident...…

"Hey." Kevin hovered in the doorway, medical curtain separating the beds in the ER ward. "Uh…..hi."

Dean rolled his head on the pillow, too tired and too lazy to lift it – he really didn't care to contemplate why – and focused on the blurry form of the reason he was here at the ER.

"How…you, ahh, feeling?" Kevin asked awkwardly. He was way out of his element here. Where the hell was Sam? Why didn't he call? Or at least respond to any of the text messages? What the hell did Kevin know about Dean's past medical history? Nothing, that's what. Nadda, zip, zilch, zero. He couldn't answer the doctor's questions and Dean either couldn't or wouldn't.

"Like shit."

"Yeah you….I mean….dude, you look…..well….erhm, you don't look good."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock…."

"Do you…..know who I am?" Kevin asked tentatively. Since passing out in the ER, Dean hadn't been responsive or coherent; freaking out, zoning out or acting drugged out. The doctors were thinking he'd thrown a reaction to the medication they'd administered to counteract the venom from the bee stings. Medication that Dean wasn't responding to the way they'd hoped. They were at a loss; their facility was small, more of an out-patient clinic then a full-fledged hospital, with no specialists or specialties and wanted to transport him to a larger hospital in Wichita.

"What the hell?" Dean scowled. He was in no moods for any games. "Seriously, Kevin, what the fuck is wrong with you? You hit your head?"

"No…no…..you did though….well, last week but…..you….I doubt that has anything to do with how you….were….you know….when….well, we got here. Maybe the medicine is working. Must be….you…you're awake and you're you."

Dean let his eyes close. What the hell was wrong with everyone? He'd been stung by a bee, okay, several bees but come on! He wasn't allergic. Damn Kevin panicking at the sight of a few red, swollen welts. And yeah, okay, maybe his tongue had swelled but, well…_.and_ his lips, his eyes, oh and his cheeks and he hadn't been able to speak with his lips double their normal size, but that did not define allergy! Hell, it hadn't even been enough to get him immediate treatment upon entering the ER!

Medication? He didn't feel like medication had made him feel better. Well, not exactly true. He had a distant memory of having a hard time breathing, like Sam had been sitting on his chest, and now he could breathe without gasping but he really didn't feel any better; still tired, still weak, still itchy, still hot and swollen, his skin still tight and achy. He still….hurt. Modern medicine truly wasn't all that wondrous.

"….go home?"

"…..sorry…..what?" Kevin cleared his throat. "You….were, saying? Wait, you want to go home?"

"They can't make me stay here."

"Well….no…but…the doctors, don't think…"

And before Kevin could say any more, the doctor pushed the curtain aside and began to inform Dean of his condition.

Wow. Kevin didn't know either brother that well, but even he knew the way to approach Dean was not with ultimatums and demands. Dean didn't blow up until he heard the words, 'fly by chopper', and then, wow….over-react much? Who would have thought a man who couldn't hold his head up from the ER bed pillow could yell and argue and be so threatening and, erhm, dangerous? The argument between the doctor and Dean finally ceased when a female doctor entered the discussion and within minutes had Dean calmed down, once again level-headed, soon speaking quietly and calmly.

Since Kevin's attendance in no way appeased their irate patient, the doctor asked him to step out into the hallway while his associate continued with her attempt to placate their patient. He wanted to discuss sedation, the possible use of restraints, tried to convince Kevin, Dean was a danger to himself and hospital personal. Kevin disagreed but Dean's actions supported the doctor's conclusions, not Kevin's arguments. Kevin stuttered and stammered, informing whoever would listen, he was not family, just a co-worker.

***000***

Kevin rubbed his eyes that burned from stress and fatigue. He'd lost track of time and events and all he wanted was to be back home. It'd all happened so fast, it'd been a blur. The ringing of his cell startled him out of his daze. He picked it up and glanced at the screen, eyes not cooperating with the too-bright light. Sam. Oh shit. Somehow, he'd forgotten all about Sam.

"Hullo?" he answered, then winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. He wasn't equipped to deal with the troublesome twosome and certainly not Sam, who was going ballistic. Wow, he'd take a fighting demon any day over the spitting fury on the opposite end of the phone that was a worried, missing-his-brother, Sam.

"Kev? What did you do? Where the hell are you? Are you home yet? Where's Dean? Is he ok? What the hell happened? You ever send me texts like that again I will drown your ass in a mud puddle."

Kevin waited for Sam to take a breath so he could get a word in, but apparently the younger Winchester had lungs like fish and didn't need to breathe air, 'cause on and on he went.

"What the hell were you thinking? You let him poke a bee hive full of bees? (yeah, like bee hives were full of something other than bees) Where the hell were you? Don't you know he finds trouble in his bath tub?! Do you not remember Casper handing him his ass, less than a week ago? Seriously Kevin, what's wrong with you?"

"Aah, I'm a prophet Sam, not a babysitter." but he was pretty sure he went unheard.

"…I told him to stay in bed, watch porn, eat pizza, how could you let him fuck that up?" Sam continued to rant, unmindful of Kevin's interruption. "I mean, really Kev, what it too much to ask?"

Kevin rolled his eyes, was what too much to ask? "Let him? _Let him_? Um, do you know him at all?"

"…bees. How the hell did he even know there was a hive? Why would you let him go outside? I should have made him come with me? Will I never learn? Apparently not, I haven't yet."

"Sam….Sam…..Sam…..HEY!"

Sam fell silent, only heaving breathing in his ear informed Kevin the call hadn't been disconnected.

"Sam…..where are you?"

"Bignell, about half way home…..why? Aren't you back home? There's no way on this earth they got him on a chopper….."

"Still in Nebraska then?"

"What the fuck difference does it make what state I'm in?"

State in America, none; mental state, a lot. Kevin thought. "Yeah, uh….no…..he didn't want to fly."

"Where is he?"

"They….they…he didn't respond to treatment. Not intravenous antihistamines or cortisone or epinephrine and they tried a pretty strong dose of it, almost pure adrenaline."

"What hospital did you go to?"

"Aah….I dunno…wait…it was close….like ten minutes…..um….."

Sam knew the name and address of every hospital within thirty miles of the bunker. One had to, when one's brother was Dean. "Smith County Memorial?" he questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it. But Sam…."

Sam winced, pinching his nose between his eyes as his head began to pound. Yeah, small hospital and not one he had a lot of confidence in. He had no trouble believing their desire to transport Dean to a larger, better equipped facility.

"….so by ambulance." Kevin was talking, most of which Sam had not heard. "He goes in and out of consciousness and when he does wake up, he's confused and often combative and doesn't respond to the doctors requests to relax and calm down. He didn't listen to me and they didn't want to sedate him, not with the swelling in his throat."

"Wait…..what?"

"Haven't you been listening to me? They're saying anaphylaxis shock."

"WHA-AT?" Sam exclaimed. "No…no…just no. He's not allergic to bee stings!"

"Is he allergic to anything?"

"NO! Well, apple seeds."

"Apple seeds? How would you know…? I mean, seeds, not apples?"

"Long story….look…..I'm three hours out. Can you stall the transport to Wichita until I get there?"

"You're on your way home?"

"Really Kevin? You have to ask?" Sam spat. "Where the hell else would I be?"

"How the hell would I know? Not like you responded to any emails for texts." Kevin said defensively. "It's been hours Sam."

"Didn't have my phone at the auction." Sam said dismissively. "So….you think you can stall or not?"

"No. I'm trying to tell..…"

"Course not." Sam sighed. "Christ Kevin, can you do anything right?"

"You know….that's not fair." Kevin responded testily. "He doesn't come with an owner's manual Sam so stop yelling at me."

"What? Jesus Kevin….all you had to do was…"

"Yeah, sorry dude, I didn't take introductory to living with Dean 101." Kevin continued. "What do you want Sam? I'm kinda busy and it's late and I'm tired and the road is dark and if I ever have another day as fucked up as this one was, I'm running away from home and no one, not even you or a summoning spell will ever find me."

"Where are you?"

"I've been trying to tell you…..driving home. They didn't send him to Wichita, they sent him by ambulance to Manhattan."

"No…no…no…nonononono….NO!" Sam yelped. "Jesus Kevin…how did you let that happen?"

"How….did….I?" Kevin sputtered. "What did I let happen?"

"Just…..why Kevin? You left him there? Why would you do that? Why would you leave him?"

"I...!" poor Kevin snapped and the yelling began. "Shock Sam, shock! He's exhibiting signs of anaphylaxis. His blood pressure is low; he has difficulty breathing and trouble swallowing; he wheezes because his chest is tight because his lungs need air and makes him short of breath; his eyes are red and itch and water and his eyelids are so swollen you can't see his pupils; his nose and cheeks and lips and tongue are puffy or bumpy; the welts are red and inflamed and itch; he's complained of a dry throat and a headache and being hot and itchy; his hand is so swollen he can't make a fist; his leg and arm are numb, he says it feels like they're asleep; his nose runs and his mouth itches and he tries to use his tongue to scratch it but it's swollen and he can't! AND DID I MENTION HE ITCHES?"

"KEVIN!"

"And fuck you Sam!" Kevin was still yelling. "I'm dealing...been trying to all day...it ain't easy you know, he ain't easy!" he paused for breath. "And where the hell have you been ALL DAMN DAY?!"

"Something's not right Kevin. He's not allergic to bee stings."

"Yeah, well…..IV meds eased the symptoms but the doctors said he didn't respond like he should have. At the hospital in Manhattan, they injected antihistamines directly into his muscle and let me tell you, he did not like that at all and put him on IV Corticosteroids."

"What?" Sam was trying to keep up and understand and grasp what Kevin was saying but all he heard was, yadda, yadda, yadda...steroids. "Kevin…..is he ok?"

"Now you ask." Kevin adjusted the rearview mirror, phone balanced on his shoulder with his chin. "…get his prescriptions filled in the morning hopefully at home."

"Wait….wait….just wait…..home? You're homeward bound? With him? He's with you? Do you have him with you?"

Kevin sighed. Was Sam deaf? "Yes Sam, we're driving home. Maybe you should check your phone and you know, return texts. He responded to the more aggressive meds at the hospital and once the swelling was down and his blood pressure and pulse, you know, heart rate returned to normal, there was no keeping him there."

"But I thought…..didn't you say…you said Wichita."

"Yeah, well, they wanted to fly him and he freaked out…so sent him by ambulance to the closest hospital that had the IV meds he needed. Treated and released AMA and now we're driving home."

Or trying to. The fog was immense and his eyes played tricks on him and the car didn't like him and they were sitting in park, an accident ahead had the road shut down, signs alerted him to that fact along with the information that a detour was three miles ahead….if they ever reached it. A motel room sounded good, really good, better than driving another hour – or however long – to get home, good. Yeah…get a motel room and let Sam to come get Dean and take him home while Kevin remained at the motel for another few days - blissfully alone. That was his plan, he was a man with a plan, just call him Stan, 'cause he just made a new plan. Course, his plan had a teeny flaw. They were in the middle of nowhere, stuck in traffic, with cars parked behind him. Oh, wait….wait….there were none coming at him, he could turn around, double back, find a motel…..yeah…..wait…..oh yeah… what was that annoying buzzing in his ear?! Oh, it was Sam.

"…let me talk to him." Sam said impatiently. "Kevin….Kev…..hey!"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure….he's kinda outta it…but you can try."

He dumped the phone in Dean's lap and put the car in reverse. Car was a freaking boat but he'd manage a K turn and if anyone dared beep a born or flick their lights, he had an arsenal in the trunk.


	3. Chapter 3

"…'lo?" Dean slurred sleepily, roused from his stupor by a familiar voice repeatedly calling his name. By either instinct or remote habit, he picked up the phone and held it to his ear. "Waaa..Evan?"

"It's Sam." came the testy reply. "What the hell Dean?"

"Sam….hey….." he rolled his head on the window, seeking the coolness the glass offered. "I…doan…..dn't feel good Sammy." he yawned. "Lemme sleep."

"Just checking in." are you ok, do you need me to come get you, remained unspoken. "Dean….hey….Dean…Dean, dammit!" in a snit-fit, Sam threw the phone into the backseat. Dean hadn't responded to his repeated pleas to say something and Kevin hadn't gotten back on the phone. "Shit."

Manhattan was in the opposite direction of Lebanon from where Sam was but also closer to home so they should be there when Sam got in. Focused on finding a way to throttle Kevin without actually harming the kid and the opportunity to see Dean and ensure his brother was ok, Sam didn't even notice when the speedometer crept over 90. He had one thought in his head that played constantly on repeat: Get home and see Dean.

It was the wind that finally interrupted his suicidal aggressive driving and the reason why he eased off the accelerator. Wow, he leaned forward and peered through the windshield, look at those clouds, that dark sky….not good….not good, oh not good at all – and he was driving towards it. Now that he was paying attention, not lost in his own mental misery, he noticed the wind wasn't merely blowing – it was gusting. Trees lining the road dipped and swayed, branches and twigs littered the roadway, leaves swirled and whipped and the car shuddered more than once when hit by a brutal blast of wind and oh great, yeah, just what he needed; rain, heavy, blinding pouring rain. No other way to describe the torrents of water his wipers flailed to keep up with.

God-Damn-It-All-To-Hell! If this didn't let up in the next five to ten minutes, he'd have to pull off the road. No way would the road be able to handle the deluge of water in the short amount of time it was accumulating. Fuck!

He finally took a breath and cleared the anger from his head. Surprisingly, the steering wheel had held up from the repeated slaps and banging of his palms. He hadn't even realized he'd pulled to the side of the road. Huh…right, okay Sam…pull it together and drive home.

***000***

Well, not the kind of motel Kevin had in mind but Triple AAA it was; available, affordable and acceptable. The first town he'd come to didn't have much to offer in way of lodgings; a five-star chain hotel he couldn't afford, a dingy motel where rooms rented by the hour that he would have taken, had there been vacancies and a boarding house/bed & breakfast some two miles off the road. Kevin snorted, putting the car in park; over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go, indeed.

The bored chick behind the bullet-proof booth at the decrepit gas station had dully informed him the next town with lodgings was some thirty-five miles 'that way' (she pointed upwards), no she didn't know the weather forecast or the cause of the accident or the reason for the detour and did he need anything else? Her show was coming back from commercial. It'd been a man pumping gas who'd given him directions to 'Edith's Bunker', assuring him of a warm reception, good food, a comfortable bed and unlimited hot water at a reasonable price.

The great-grandmother, 'cause yeah, Kevin was sure she was that old, met him at the door before he could knock. She was all smiles and cheerful chatter as she checked him in, not questioning their lack of luggage. She chattered on how breakfast, which would be pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon with toast daily, was included in their room charge but lunch and dinner, though available, would cost extra. She beamed as she handed him two room keys, informed him there was a shared bathroom on the floor and waved him on his way.

He looked longingly at the stair case that led upstairs to the second floor where a hot shower, the comfort of a bed and the companionship of a TV awaited then swung his head to the front door. Would it be that horrible of him if he left Dean in the car until he woke up on his own and found his way inside? Tempting, oh he was so tempted….but…..well, there was Sam. He'd been super pissed on the phone and Kevin really didn't want to contemplate what kind of fit the younger Winchester would throw if he found out Kevin had left his brother in the car, alone, in the cold, just out of the hospital AMA, in pain and ill and medicated and…..

He sighed, and with lowered head and dragging feet, trudged to the front door. He opened it and stepped out onto the porch, eyes widening at the rain he'd previously neither seen nor heard. He turned his collar up, hunched his shoulders against the wind, descended the steps and crossed the yard to the car where he attempted to coax, cajole and beg Dean to get out of it. Kevin sighed, cursing Sam yet again. Undoubtedly, _he _would have known exactly what to say to get Dean out of the car.

"Good evening. May I be of assistance?"

Kevin looked up to see an elderly man encased in a large rain slicker. "Wanna grab a foot and drag?" he asked sourly. "Careful though, he kicks."

"Hum…..too much to drink perhaps?"

"No. Pissed off some bees." Kevin answered. The man, who had come to help them with their non-existent luggage, peered around the door. "Threw an allergic reaction. We…aah…..I had to take him to the ER….we were on our way back home but the road was closed and there was a detour and he wasn't feeling so good…so…."

"Home would be where?"

"Lebanon."

"Kansas?" the man chuckled. "And you ended up here? Bit out of your way, don't you think?"

"I have no fucking idea where the hell we are…" Kevin groused irritably. "I'll figure it out in the morning." so much for Sam coming to get Dean…couldn't anything go his way? The day had been so warm and sunny and nice and now? Now wind drove the rain sideways, thunder rumbled in the distance and lighting lit up the sky. Where the hell had this storm come from?

"Well son, you're not in Kansas anymore!" the man cackled at his own joke, rubbing his hands together. "Aah….well, you must be tired."

"Not funny." Kevin muttered. "Not funny at all." he huffed and puffed then deflated. "My life sucks."

"Come along. Everything will look better in the morning." he held the door while Kevin grabbed hold of Dean's collar and tugged. "I say, he appears to be quite out of it."

"Yeah, well, they doped him up at the hospital. I don't know what he's on and despite what the doctor said, he wouldn't stay…..I dunno…..scared the shit outta me is all I'll say." Kevin grunted against Dean's dead weight. "He ever does this to me again and….I…..I'll…..I dunno, run away from home or something."

"He doesn't carry an epi-pen?"

"Didn't know he was allergic."

"You didn't know?"

"He didn't. Dean, man come on, cut me a break, will ya?" he tugged and nudged and jostled and pulled until Dean finally roused and managed to fall from the car to the ground. "Great. Get up…..or I swear to God, I will leave you here." not that he would dare, for he didn't relish the ass kicking he'd receive from Sam if he ever found out Kevin had left his drugged brother in the dirt, ehrm, mud, in a torrential downpour in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

"Best we get him inside." Mr. Rain Slicker swung the car door shut and with surprising ability and strength for a man his age, knelt beside Dean and helped him gain his feet. "Doesn't bite, does he? Call me Pete."

"Been known to." Kevin lent an arm on Dean's other side and together they walked the befuddled hunter across the yard, up the porch steps, into the warmth of the foyer and up the steps to the second floor where their rooms were. Dean simply fell across the bed, rolling to his side and falling asleep so quickly, Kevin doubted the stricken hunter even knew he wasn't home. "Is it normally so foggy around here?" he paused, looking out the window. Huh, the fog had been immense, only what, an hour, two hours ago? "Or rain like this?"

"Now, now, no need to fret young one." Pete assured the teen-ager standing in the door way. "You're perfectly safe here. Don't expect to lose power but if we do, got plenty of fire wood chopped and a forest full of trees for more for heat. Got candles and flash-lights and oil lamps for light. Got chickens for eggs, spring fed well that never freezes and Ma can make bread and biscuits, and we do have a generator to keep the fridge and freezer running. Never been stranded longer than a week."

"A week?" Kevin squeaked. "We can't stay here a week! Wait, lose power? Why, why would that happen? Lose power?" his mind was racing and he wasn't waiting for Pete to catch up and answer his questions. "No, no, no…..we can't….be…did you say stranded? Why? How? Oh no…we have to go….we can't stay here! Dean…..dude, get up!" he started dashing about the room, opening drawers and closet doors only to realize he had nothing to pack. "God…I'm so fucked." he moaned, head held in his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve this life?"

"Now, now, young man, calm yourself down." Pete said soothingly. "Needs medicine, does he?"

"What? NO…I mean YES…..no, I have what the hospital gave him, but he has prescriptions to get filled but…why would we lose power?"

"Relax son." he patted Kevin's shoulder. "You've got warmth and shelter and food….everything you need."

Except Sam.

"We're safe here." Pete said in a tone meant to assure Kevin and failing completely. "Safe from the weather, the lighting, the water…..we've never flooded - well the bridge has but the house hasn't. Born and raised right here…..I was."

"You don't understand." Kevin dropped into a ridiculously overstuffed feminine armchair that squeaked under his weight and raised sorrowful eyes full of anguish to Pete's. "This storm is nothing." he snorted. "When momma bear gets home and finds her cub missing…..?" he hung his head with a snort. "I can never go home again."

"Your mother will feel much better that you are off the road, out of this storm and safe." Pete said kindly. "Cell phones don't work so well out here in good weather, hardly ever in a storm, but you can use our land line to call her."

"My mom. Yeah. Sure." Kevin didn't correct Pete's misunderstanding. How did one explain a grown man's brother freaking out, wreaking havoc and turning the earth upside down searching for him? "Yeah…uh….sure…thanks." how pissed would Sam be when he got home and didn't find his brother tucked up in his room at the bunker? What would Sam do? Would he come after him? Yeah, he would, if he knew where to find him. If Kevin were able to reach him, would he demand Kevin get back on the road and drive Dean home or come get him? "But we'll leave in the morning."

"We wouldn't think of turning you out in this weather." Pete assured him. "Don't you worry, you stay as long as you need to, best to wait out this storm right here."

"You don't understand." Kevin said miserably. "We have to get home. If he's found missing, if he isn't there when Sam gets home, Sam will come looking for him and if there's a force on this earth you don't wanna hafta fuck with, its Sam when he's missing his brother. And if he _thinks _you're keeping his brother from him…"

"Sam is welcome should he come looking for you." Pete patted his shoulder, sure the young man's nerves had gotten the best of him. "You've had a long, trying day. Goodness son, no one is keeping anyone here…" he was shaking his head with a chuckle. "Today's youth and their flappable nerves. You'll feel better after you get some rest. I'll update you on the weather in the morning."

Pete walked off, descending the stairs with Kevin standing in the doorway staring after him. Dean, who hadn't bothered to tie his boots at the hospital, sat up, toed them off, wormed and wiggled until the blankets were out from under him and flopped back down.

"NO!" Kevin yelped, yanking the blankets away before Dean could snuggle under them. "Dude….get up." in his frantic haste, he had the strength to shove Dean off the bed and he fell to the floor where he landed with a thud and a grunt. "Don't go getting the bed all wet and muddy! Get undressed and I'll see if they have a washing machine." before the power goes out, he thought irritably.

Dean blinked blearily, rubbing his cheek against the carpet, some fogged distant part of his brain telling him his hip hurt. Odd, pillows were usually much softer. What the…what was that? Again….again, someone was tugging on his arm….again. He'd had enough of that and swatted out blindly. Kevin swatted back and a slap-fight ensued. Dean was too tired and too sluggish to carry on and soon gave up, allowing the pull on his arm to guide him to his feet.

"Aah dude…here…get undressed and dry off." Kevin tossed him a towel. "I'll come back for your clothes…..all of them….." he went to his own room, just across the hall where he undressed and went down the hall to take a hot shower. When he returned to his room, a towel around his waist, there was a robe laid across his bed and his clothes were gone. Huh, so….it hadn't gone un-noticed they'd arrived without luggage.

He felt a moment of panic until he saw the contents of his pockets sitting on the night stand. He grabbed his protective hex bag, and the charm he wore on a cord around his neck then walked across the hall to peek into Dean's room. Dean had crawled into bed, all that was visible above the blankets was a tuft of hair; his sopping pile of clothing had also disappeared. Kevin backed out of the room and returned to his own where he retrieved his cell phone and sprawled on the bed to call Sam but there was no service, so he went in search of both their clothes and the use of a land line phone.

The house had three floors, for Kevin had seen a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway next to the bathroom, but it couldn't hold more than four bedrooms and a bathroom on each floor. He wondered if there were any other guests. Not that it mattered…still…some company would be nice. The way the wind howled and the windows rattled and pinged with – good god – hail, he doubted they'd be leaving come morning. Great.

The foyer with the check-in counter was empty; the front door was locked; the hallways leading to the back of the house were dark. He wasn't surprised; hell it was after what, ten, eleven, midnight? He wandered down a hallway that led to the back of the house where he figured the elderly couple who apparently ran the place would have rooms. Kitchens were usually at the rear of the house and he could use a snack. Was he expected to served himself or wait until morning? Oh, maybe the front desk had a bell he could ring for service. He giggled.

"Hello young man." Kevin jumped, startled, great-grama was standing in front of him, where the bloody hell had she come from? "Call me Edith." she smiled warmly. "It's late. I thought you'd have gone to bed. How can I help you dear?"

"I…Pete said I could use your phone. My cell doesn't get a signal. I need to call…uh…." he frowned. "Where are we?"

"Why, you're in Blaine, Nebraska." she led the way to the foyer where she went behind the small counter and set a telephone on top. "Sorry it's not cordless but without power, they don't do us much good, now do they? Can I get you something to eat? It's past dinner but I can make you a ham sandwich or heat you some beef barley soup? Would you like that?"

His mouth watered, and his heart fluttered over the motherly concern of his comfort and his stomach growled. "Wait…..I'm where?" how the hell did he get them to Nebraska?

"I see you found the robe." she continued. "I hope you don't mind, but I collected your clothes and put them in the laundry. Don't want the mud to set in." she patted his cheek. "What about your….who is he again dear?"

"Who's who?" he stuttered stupidly, attention on the thought of food, not the current conversation.

"The gentleman with you? Do you think he's hungry?"

Gentle…..who? "Oh." Kevin gave his head a shake to clear it. "Him. No…he went to bed. He's…aah, doped up on some pretty strong meds."

"Yes, Pete mentioned he'd been stung by bees and threw an allergic reaction. Poor thing. He must be feeling terribly."

"Uh…..yeah….sure, right….no, he's not hungry. Where's…..Pete?"

"Oh, he's outside securing the chickens and the furniture, gathering more wood in case we need fires to heat your rooms. Earl called and told us he'd sent you our way, that's why I had the rooms on the second floor all ready for you. They each have their own fireplace."

"Are we the only guests?" Kevin began to dial Sam's number, praying for voicemail. Securing chickens? Good grief, where the hell was he? "Who's Earl?"

"Oh no, we have a family of four staying with us. They're on the third floor, two bedrooms per floor have their own fireplaces. They came before you but we knew you were coming before they arrived." she turned a light on. "Earl helps with some of the heavier chores. You met him at the gas station."

"Hey Sam." the call had gone straight to voice mail, so either Sam's phone was off, (doubtful) or he wasn't getting service either. "We….aah…pulled off the road for the night. We're at Edith's Bunker in Blaine, NE. Hope to be home early afternoon, but the weather's shitty." he hung up and stepped aside to allow her to put the phone away. "You mentioned a snack?"

"Of course, no trouble at all." she flapped her hands at him to move him along. "Kitchen's right this way. Come on…come along, don't be shy….let's go get you something to eat."

Too tired and too numb to protest, he followed Edith into the kitchen where she seated him at a table with cookies and milk while she made him a ham and cheese sandwich.

***000***

Dean woke slowly, in confusion, in pain, and assaulted by bites that stung and stabbed so severely, he groaned with a curse. Opening his eyes didn't make him feel any better either. When they first blinked opened, the light hurt and they refused to focus, not that he tried too hard to make them do so, and he promptly allowed them to close. Focused or not, he'd seen enough to doubt his sanity.

He was either still asleep and dreaming, unconscious and delirious or he had finally lost his mind for he was damn sure he hadn't redecorated the walls of his room and it wasn't something Sam would have done. Not even as a joke to piss him off. Maybe it was a hallucination….yeah….induced by copious amounts of alcohol, 'cause he felt like he'd spent a week bingeing on grain alcohol like when'd he'd been twenty-something and tried to drink that biker chick under the table. Yeah, he'd failed.

Sighing, he bit his lip against the discomfort that surged a flush of warmth through his body and forced his eyes open. His eyes finally adjusted and focused and yup, he still saw what he'd seen. Flower printed wallpaper – _wallpaper_ – mocked him from the wall opposite his frilly, lacey bed with – his eyes went up – a white canopy over his head atop a four-poster bed. Everywhere his eyes roamed, he saw lace and frill. Curtains and dressers scarfs and afghans and quilts and embroidered pillows and stitched flower pictures and….doilies!

The bed was warm and comfortable and his duffel sat on the bed bench, he frowned, he didn't remember carrying it in. His frown deepened, he didn't remember his feet carrying _him_ into the….where was he? Was he in a house? He was confused but didn't feel alarmed. The room, although dated from the 18th century with bric-a-brac, knick-knacks, figurines, and a porcelain pitcher with wash bowl, was neat and clean and cheerfully decorated.

He groaned, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. He shouldn't know what a doily was…..it was enough to make a man puke. He swallowed hard, body flushing renewed with warmth…..oh dear god, he was going to puke! He lurched off the bed, stumbling when the floor proved to be further away than he'd anticipated and ended up on his hands and knees, nose in the carpet. What the….? Was that a fucking wooden step-stool to…to…used to get into_ bed_? Where the fuck was he, how did he get there and how soon could he leave? He crawled until he was able to gain his feet, making for the visible door, and flinging it open in expectation of a bathroom. He was greeted by a shrill shriek, admonishment for his thoughtless action and a kid, maybe two, laughing and pointing fingers, not the welcoming sight of a porcelain throne.

A hallway, not the bathroom….and…..his hands flailed, feeling a draft…..he was naked. He didn't have time to care, stomach already heaving into his throat. He whirled around, somehow having the mind to slam the door closed as his eyes darted in all directions, frantically searching for a second door...where the hell was the bathroom? Repetitious habit passed his thought process and sent him in search of his tried and true receptacle..….the nearest trash can.

He didn't know how much time passed, no one came to the door and though he was no longing heaving and his knees had stopped knocking together, he still had no idea where he was, how he'd gotten there, who was with him…or why. He set the trash can aside and flopped a limp hand all about over his head in search something he could use to wipe his mouth. God, he felt _awful_; truly and utterly and completely _awful_!

He fought the urge to lie down and curl up on the fuzzy carpet because it was, you know, the floor and pushed himself to his feet. His legs were shaky and threatened to dump him back where'd he just been, but a death grip on the bed post and another hand on the mattress kept him upright until the dizziness subsided. No clothes were found but there was a robe folded next to his duffel on the bed bench and he pulled it on…snuggling into its soft warmth.

What to do? What should he do? Should he care? He held his head and squatted down to peer under the bed. It was high enough off the floor Sam could hide beneath it but nothing and no one was there. Not even a dust bunny. Using the bed covers to pull himself back to his feet, he made to sit on the mattress but it was higher than his ass and his coordination deserted him. He eyed the stool but couldn't recall why it was there so he stood where he was and stared blankly at the wall.

Where was he? Why was he there? How did he get there? How long had he been there? What time was it? What day was it? Where were his clothes? Did he have his car? Why did he feel so god-damn awful? He needed to pee, wanted something to drink, maybe some mouth wash…there had to be a bathroom somewhere and he wasn't locked in….so….move your ass Dean.

He tied the robe, collected the trash can and cautiously opened the door. The hallway was decorated in the same theme as his room….wow. Okay, flight of steps going down, flight going up, seven doors, including his own, two smaller than the others, probably closets, four firmly closed and there…..one ajar. Ah-Ha bathroom.

***000***

Kevin stared out the window, fighting tears and the sour taste in his mouth. It was morning, not that anyone could tell. The rain poured, the wind howled and whipped and between the downpour and the blowing leafs, you couldn't see out the window past the front porch. Kevin sighed, turning away from the window and going to sit on the sofa where the TV was turned on to local news. High winds, flooding, periods of hail, severe lighting and extreme unfavorable weather conditions expected over the next forty-eight hours with brief periods of calm rain and gentler winds. _Calm rain and gentler winds?_ What kind of forecast was that?

They still had electricity, though cells still didn't receive service and there was no internet. He had several books with him both for pleasure and research, so he wouldn't be bored, but man he did not want to remain here. He'd greeted the day with the intention of leaving after breakfast, but…no…not in this weather and not in that boat the brother's called a car. Nuh-huh…..no way, not happening. Maybe if Dean had been awake and up to driving, but when Kevin had popped his head in Dean's room, it'd been to discover the elder hunter was still tucked-up in bed, dead to the world; he hadn't even responded to Kevin's pleas to wake up and take some meds….yeah, no….Dean driving them home wasn't gonna happen.

He made arrangements with Edith to have all their meals provided, sure Dean would find a way to pay for them and was eating breakfast in the dining room when the family of four occupying the third floor entered the room. Kevin paid them no attention; awash in his own abject misery. No change of clothes, though Edith had returned both his and Dean's freshly laundered, stranded alone in a state he didn't know he'd entered, further away from home then he'd thought he was, with one sick Winchester and out of communication with the other. Yup, that was his life. Woot-woot.

"This is not the environment we wish our children…" yadda, yadda, yadda. "Unclothed men strolling….." yadda, yadda, yadda. "Why, if we could, we'd leave!"

"Oh my." Edith smiled with an apologetic smile. "Kevin dear, it would appear your friend is now awake."

"Huh?" he chewed around a biscuit covered in jam, having no idea what was being said at the table. "My who….? Oh….." he shrugged. "Okay."

"He caused a disturbance upstairs in the hallway." Edith said kindly. "Perhaps you should go check on him."

"A disturbance? _A disturbance_? It was unacceptable! If this…..this….behavior is acceptable in your establishment you ought to be asham…" the mother, wife, whoever the hell she was, went silent under the gaze Kevin turned on her, just stopped talking mid-syllable.

"Yeah….sure….whatever." Kevin reached for more bacon. "Just leave him alone and he won't bother you."

"I understand the bathroom is a shared facility but he can't just…just…well, he just can't!"

"Lady, you don't have anything to worry about. You're not his type….." Kevin gave her another look of disgust. "At all." he held his glass out to Edith for a refill of juice, giving her a smile of thanks. "So stifle it."

"How dare you!" she gasped.

"You have no idea what you're messing with." Kevin finally finished the food on his plate and pushed back from the table. "I have enough to deal with and worry about. I don't really care if your maiden sensibilities were ruffled."

"Young man…"

He ignored her gasp of offended outrage and her husband's puffed up attempt to defend her. He couldn't deal with anything more….he simply couldn't. He went upstairs and found Dean in the hallway, wearing the robe, staring at one door then another.

"Hey Dean." Kevin greeted. "You feeling better? Want something to eat?" he sure as hell didn't look any better, eyes still red and swollen, mouth drawn, cheeks sunken…..poor dude. "Come on, I got your clothes…..take some meds and go back to sleep."

"Where the fuck are we?"

"Had to pull off the road last night. Huge storm blew up…this B&B was all that was available." Kevin handed him his clothes and followed him into his room where Dean donned his t-shirt and briefs. "Maybe you should eat something…"

"Later." the thought of food caused him to blanch and hold his stomach. "We good here?"

"Aah….yeah….yeah….use the step stool….Dean…..the stool….right….okay." Kevin retrieved two cups of water from the bathroom - gonna hafta get bigger cups Kev, these 3 ouncer's ain't gonna cut it - and Dean swallowed the meds that were handed to him then laid down and burrowed under the blankets. "Guess you're gonna sleep…okay, good. Just don't…..go running around naked anymore, okay?"

His only response was the appearance of a hand flipping him off. Kevin grinned and returned to his own room across the hall where he spent the day until Pete knocked on the door and told him it was time for dinner. Kevin set his book aside and looked at the clock, dinner? What the hell happened to lunch?

It still rained, Dean still slept and Kevin still couldn't reach Sam. Oh, that couldn't be a good sign. Hunger drove him downstairs to the dining room where the snooty family sat the table. Edith was bustling around, and through the doorway that led to the kitchen, Pete and a man who looked familiar were loading shot guns.

"Hello dear." Edith greeted. "Pork Chops, barley soup, green bean casserole and sweet potatoes. Would you like a glass of milk?"

"Please, thank you." he sat down, becoming aware he had interrupted a conversation that the two boys immediately resumed.

"You're stupid….it was Rambo!"

"I'm not stupid….you're dumb! He was huge! It was Conan!"

"Duh….he didn't have black hair."

"Duh…..it was dark and he was all wet and covered in mud, how would you know? Rambo!"

"Too short!"

"Rambo! He had a huge gun!"

"Conan! He had a huge sword!"

"Rambo! He had bangs!"

"How could you tell? It was Conan! He had a head band!"

"Rambo has one too!"

"That ain't no head band! It's a…a….it's a rag! A doo-rag!"

"You take that back!"

"Make me midget!"

"Rambo!"

"Conan!"

Kevin waited for their mother to shush them so he could eat in peace but their arguing continued. Rambo vs Conan? Sylvester vs Arnold? Weren't those movies like from the eighties? No wait, Conan…..there were more movies than the ones with Arnold, right?

"Now boys, this is not a topic for the dinner table." Edith spoke when their mother didn't attempt to reprimand them for their lack of table manners. "Now, settle down and eat your dinner."

"But we saw him!" one insisted.

"Yeah, right out our window! The lightning flashed and there he was."

"Big! With a gun!"

"Sword!"

"Yes." Edith nodded. "No one doubts you saw someone. It's not unusual for people to seek shelter in this weather but your squabbling will cease while we are at this table."

Kevin stopped chewing, unable to swallow. Someone lurked outside the house with a gun and a sword? And Pete and Earl were loading guns...both Rambo and Conan had long hair…not a sword, a machete….soup spewed, milk spilt, Kevin choked, a chair fell over and chaos erupted as Kevin bolted for the door.

Sam had come for his brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam took a moment to gather both his wits and his strength, and fought the urge to sink to the ground. His legs trembled from exertion and his head throbbed from tension and the stress of the unknown but his mind remained alert and focused. He stood – unwisely, what with all the lightning – under the dubious protection of a large tree, staring at the house across the yard that may or may not house his wayward brother and his piss-ant little prophet.

His rotated his neck, hunched and flexed first one shoulder, then the other, trying to ease the strain on tense muscles. He'd been forced to leave his car before the bridge and walk the two miles to the house, lugging a duffel heavy with weapons. He was _so_ going to sit Kevin down at the table and keep him there until he'd taught the kid how to leave a proper voicemail. The little snot had delighted in bombarding him with stupid texts and emails, but Sam had had to call him and only _then_ had the little punk managed to leave _one _voicemail without a call back number. Caller ID had been blocked and while the storm surely had interfered with phone reception, the message still had been short, broken up with static and he'd been able to make out only a few words: Blaine, shitty, bunker.

He'd continued to drive home, his pace excruciatingly slow – at times doing no more than five miles an hour – only to find no one there, so he'd settled in and waited. And waited and waited but Kevin hadn't brought Dean home and he hadn't called a second time. Pissed, worried, exhausted and annoyed, unable to sleep, he'd listened to the message repeatedly, finally piecing together that Blaine, though how the hell Kevin had ended up there from Manhattan - well the kid had said detour and fog and hadn't he turned around? – was a town in the neighboring state of Nebraska. All he'd needed had been a map and GPS and here he was, seething in frustration, as he surveyed, cased, and plotted. Had he driven straight to Blaine, instead of home and doubling back after waiting forever and getting no sleep, he would have been here hours ago. Why that mattered, he didn't try to figure out. Y_eah, definitely not going there_!

Leaving the duffel under the protection of a pine tree, and armed with a shotgun and a machete, he stepped out into the wind and rain and began to walk around the house, searching for the one sure sign that would tell him he'd found the right place and his brother was inside – the Impala. He didn't really believe his brother was being held against his will in the three-story clapboard Victorian but they could never be too careful. Only Dean could leave the safety and security of home – without Sam – due to something as mundane as multiple bee stings and find trouble of the unknown and be taken hostage while away.

"I dunno whether to punch you when I find you or hug you." Sam muttered, rounding a barn and coming to the front of the house. Ah-ha! There, parked on the driveway with an SUV, sat the welcome sight of the Impala. He didn't know how the heck he'd missed seeing her before, both when approaching the house from the road and while walking around the perimeter of the manicured lawn. Oh well, it didn't matter, for where there was one, there was the other.

He didn't want to contemplate why he'd felt a driving, almost desperate, need to find his brother, wasn't like they hadn't been separated before while hurt or sick…but…here he was; wet, cold, hungry, tired, sleep-deprived, slightly frantic and battling panic, perhaps even waging a war with hysteria. Even knowing Dean was with Kevin and had sought medical treatment, didn't appease Sam or give him confidence that his brother was going to be ok. A never before allergic reaction to bee stings, being transported from hospital to hospital, leaving AMA, receiving treatment Sam knew nothing about, not being as responsive to that treatment as the doctors expected, injection of antihistamines and what the _fuck_ were Corticosteroids? – were some of the reasons Sam _had_ to see his brother; had to see for himself what had prompted Kevin to take him to a hospital and made Dean agree to go.

All right, front door….all he needed to do was knock…

"Easy there son, drop the knife, then the gun." a clear voice commanded over the wind. "Put your hands up over your head real nice and slow."

"Where is he?" Sam asked instead of complying. He didn't feel threatened and he doubted he'd be able to hold his hands up for long, holding weapons are not. "Who are you? If you've hurt him…..done anything to him…"

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking questions. Drop the knife. I'm not going to ask you again."

"I'm not willing to do that." Sam slowly stepped sideways one step at a time until his back was to the Impala. All symptoms of weariness were gone and he was alert and prepared for a fight. His stance or perhaps it was his facial expression that gave him away.

"Stand down. We don't want any trouble."

"You've found it."

"Who are you and what are you doing out here?"

"HEY!" Kevin shouted, leaping off the porch and hitting the pavement running. His feet hadn't even touched one step. "Whoa! Whoa! NO! Wait. Wait. Wait a minute, hold on! Pete, hold up! Don't! Don't do….." he splashed through a puddle, slipped, went down on one knee and scrambled to his feet, never pausing in his charge across the lawn. "Don't you dare!"

"Go back inside youngster." Pete ordered calmly despite having to shout to be heard. "You let us take care of this."

"No…No…No…..Sam….damn you! Say something!" Kevin yelled, hands flinging up and out and down and back up. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" he skidded to a stop next to Pete, slightly behind Earl. "What the hell are you doing?"

"No need to worry son." Pete said. "No one is going to get shot. We just want him to lower his weapons, we mean him no harm."

"Both Pete and I are good shots." Earl had yet to take his eyes off Sam. "We won't kill him."

"Not as good as him!" Kevin rushed Sam and planted himself directly in front of the bewildered hunter, palms against his chest in a futile attempt to move him backwards. Sam merely peered down at him as Kevin grunted, pushing with all his strength, feet scrabbling for purchase in the mud. "SAM!" Kevin gave up trying to move him and turned around to face Pete and Earl but before he could say anything, a hand grabbed his shoulder and propelled him behind the unmovable wall that was Sam. "Good God! Can't you ever just do shit like a normal person?"

Pete gaped. They held two guns on Rambo-Conan and the youngster was worried about _them_ being shot? The way the man was scowling, and the defensive way in which he stood clearly told Pete, Rambo-Conan appeared ready to defend the boy against them! He was beginning to suspect the big guy was in no way intimated by him, Earl, or their guns.

"Put the gun down." Earl ordered. "I don't want to have to shoot you, but you're not leaving me much choice."

"NO!" Kevin yelped, jumping up and down in an attempt to see over Sam's shoulder. "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" good lord, Dean would tear them apart and burn the house to the ground if they shot his brother. "It's loaded with rock salt!" his head popped out from under Sam's arm. "It'll hurt like hell but won't kill anyone. He's not here to rob you or anything…Sam…..man, they're human. Come on!"

"His shotgun is loaded with…..rock salt?" Pete repeated. "That doesn't make any sense…" what the hell was going on? "Here now….." despite the wind and rain, Pete heard Earl cock his gun, and aim for Sam's left shoulder.

"He thinks you're a ghost or maybe a demon….he…." Kevin hastily explained. "HEY!" he grabbed for Sam's arm and played tug of war for the gun, feet slipping in the mud. "SAM! Damn you! Cut it out….."

"I'd still feel better if he lowered both his weapons." Pete stated. "That's one large, lethal knife. Steady Earl."

"It's a machete." Kevin grunted, tugging with both hands to Sam's one. He kicked Sam's ankle, sure the hunter was merely playing with him. "But you're not a vampire so he won't cut your head off. Dammit SAM! Knock it off…!"

"Where's Dean?"

"In the house where he's been sleeping all day." Kevin finally succeeded in wrestling the shotgun away from Sam because Sam allowed him to have it. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? "

"Why are you?" Sam countered. "Jesus Kevin! You can't just take him and not come home!"

"Ever hear of _the_ front door?"

"You told me you were taking him home!"

"I tried….but we got held up in an accident and the weather kept getting worse and he felt awful and there was a detour or two…maybe three, hell I dunno. This is the first town I came to." Kevin was still yelling. "Still doesn't explain why you're sneaking around outside the house! What the hell were you thinking!?"

"You're in Nebraska Kevin!" Sam shouted back. "I was thinking what the hell might have brought him here!"

"I got lost!" Kevin yelled defensively. "Would you rather us be stuck in this storm somewhere in the car?"

"I'd rather you be home!" Sam waved the machete overhead. "Dean knows how to get there!"

"Hell, he didn't even know his own name!"

"Yesterday Kevin! That was yesterday! What the hell happened to coming home today?"

"Yeah, well…..couldn't leave in this weather. The rain and wind hasn't let up since _yesterday_." he mimicked Sam, ducking. "Put that down!" Kevin made a swipe for the machete. "SAM! Stop!"

"I made it home, where I waited. All night. Then drove here." Sam snapped, slapping Kevin's hand down. "Stop that! Christ, you wanna lose your hand?"

"Hooray for you." Kevin snapped right back. "I've had my license…like three years Sam…..one of which I didn't even have the opportunity to do any driving so excuse me for not having the experience of living on the road like you!"

"Really Kevin? Seriously? Now? You're going to give _me_ shit, now? Here?"

"Yeah, yes I am." Kevin huffed. "Why are you here? I left you a message…"

"Yeah, a message. One fucking message." Sam snorted, spitting rain. "Broken with static, no return phone number and from a blocked number." he sneered. "I got three words Kev…three…..I assumed you said Dean was feeling shitty so you took him home, were off the road and at the bunker so I went there. Imagine my surprise to find it empty – no one there."

"Oh."

"And I waited – waited for you to bring him home."

"Oh."

"And I waited for a text or an email or another phone call, but nope, nothing, nadda, not a damn word."

"Oh."

"Your thumbs break? Lost your phone?"

" I….I thought…..you'd think….."

"What the _hell_ did you _think _I'd think Kevin!?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Kevin yelled, frustrated. "Not….not…..well, not…..that! You…..you thought someone had taken him?"

"JESUS CHRIST Kevin! Do you know us at all? YEAH! He's up and disappeared on me before!"

"But I TOLD you…!"

"Wow, just….wow. Short memory, huh Kevin?" he tossed his head but his matted hair still hung in his eyes. "Didn't it occur to you to try and call me again when you didn't hear from me?"

Kevin remained silent. He hadn't been with the brothers when Dean had been thrown ass-first through a wall during a hunt but he clearly remembered Sam's panic when he'd brought Dean home. "You know, why are you being so mean?" Kevin flared. "Talk about being worked up. Geesch, I mean…what's the big deal? He….."

"The big deal? The big…._deal_? He isn't safe here Kevin! He can't protect himself – or you – and how the hell am I supposed to when he isn't where the fuck he's supposed to be?"

"There's nothing to protect himself from here! He's safe Sam…"

"HE'S NEVER SAFE!" Sam roared. "ANYTHING can get HIM at ANYTIME no matter where he is UNLESS he's HOME! Can't you understand that?"

"Do you both think perhaps we can take this argument inside?" Pete interrupted. "You…aah…." he watched Kevin jump and swipe a hand for the machete that Sam easily held out of his reach. "Sir…I'd feel better if you would allow the youngster to take possession of that deadly weapon."

Sam wiped his face on his shoulder, sheathing the machete in the holder along his thigh. "Trust him with a knife sharp enough to take his hand off?" he let Kevin keep the shotgun as he turned around and walked back to retrieve his duffel. "So, we're good? You sure Kev?"

Kevin fell into step beside him. "Spiked the juice with holy water, table salt served with every meal. I have my hex bag and charm…..we're good."

"Maybe….we should knock him out, tie him up and put him in the barn." Earl muttered to Pete as a now unarmed Sam strolled ahead of them. "He doesn't seem in full possession of all his faculties. Beginning to doubt the kid's sanity too."

"Aah…" Pete failed to find words to respond when Sam's head swung around to pierce them with a look that plainly told them, despite the howling wind and rain that was now hail, he'd heard enough of what Earl had said to understand his intent. "I don't think that'd be a good idea. Certainly not a suggestion you should pass along."

Sam heaved a sigh when he followed Kevin up the steps of the front porch and the rain didn't follow. It was the first time in several hours he'd been out of the cold, hard rain and though he dripped water, the lack of being pelted in the face was an immense relief. Before Kevin could knock, the door opened and they were met by Edith.

"Welcome to Edith's Bunker." she smiled against the howl of the wind, arms full of towels. Sam shot Kevin a look of comical disbelief. "Would you both mind terribly, disrobing out here on the porch? Pete and Earl wore rain slickers and will come in through the back door so they won't leave nearly the mess you will."

"Seriously?" Sam pushed at his hair, well aware he was dripping water and leaving muddy footsteps across the porch, but he didn't care. He wanted in that house and his brother within his sight. "Edith Bunker? Really?"

"What?" Kevin was dismayed that his clothes were once again, wet and muddy and would require laundering. "She's nice Sam, so behave."

"You can use these towels to dry off then go straight upstairs to Kevin's room." she chattered on. "No one will see you, they're all still in the dining room. I'll get another robe and set another plate at the table and get your clothes straight into the wash. You should take a hot shower then come down to finish your dinner." she turned to Sam when Sam put a hand on Kevin's shoulder to keep him where he was.

"He doesn't need a shower or his clothes washed and I don't need a robe." Sam stated. "And we won't be staying to eat dinner."

"You don't mean to leave in this weather?" Edith frowned. "Where is your car?"

Sam hesitated. The car had been, erhm, borrowed and he hadn't trusted it to forge the flooded bridge. "I had to leave it on the other side of the bridge."

"Good heavens! You walked clear out here? In this weather? My, my, that was – foolish." she shook her head. "And you think you're going to walk back to it? Tonight? It's hailing!"

"Cell's don't work." Sam explained impatiently. "And we're not walking anywhere, we'll take our car."

"You need a phone?" Edith inquired. "We have a land-line."

"Aah, Sam…I don't think….." Kevin began.

"You," a finger pointed at him. "Shut up. You've caused enough trouble." Sam said mildly, weariness was hitting him hard and thought of a hot shower, a warm meal – which smelled delicious, the aroma wafting to the open door – and the comfort of dry clothes and a comfy bed nearly overwhelmed his insistence they leave immediately.

"But Sam….maybe waiting until morning…"

"We don't go now, we may not be able to go for days." Sam said absently, recalling the surging river with waves cresting the pavement on the bridge. He looked up the steps. "I want to go home Kevin. We _need _to go home."

"Yeah, but…but…Sam see…..you don't…"

"He's not safe here. _We're_ not safe here."

"But no one knows we're here!"

"What's it going to take for you to get it? He's vulnerable here…..at risk for capture and he can't defend himself. Can he?" Sam waited and when Kevin shook his head, continued. "Anyone finds out he's down….." Sam could either shed his coat and shoes or push past the kind elderly lady and dash up the stairs. He thought to do the latter but one look at her face and he caved. "Kevin…enough." Sam raised a foot, crossed his ankle over his knee and untied his laces then did the same with his other foot. "I'm getting him up and we're leaving."

"Fine!" Kevin threw his hands up in defeat. He was out of his sneakers, hoodie, t-shirt and jeans before Sam had his second boot off. "Do whatever the hell you want." he took a towel from Edith and rubbed at his hair then quickly dried off. Wearing only underwear, he entered the house and started up the steps, then stopped and half turned around to address Sam. "Wake him up and make him leave. Go ahead. But I'm not helping you do it and I'm not going with you."

"Teen-agers." Edith shook her head. "Such a trial these days."

Leaving his boots and jackets on the front porch with his duffel, Sam stepped forward, silently demanding entrance into the house. Edith handed him a towel then stood aside to allow him in. Sam followed Kevin up the stairs, toweling at his hair as he went. His only thought, his every intention, despite the warmth and tantalizing aroma of dinner, was to wake his brother up, load up the Impala and drive home to _their _bunker. If Kevin didn't want to accompany them, if he wanted to remain behind until the storm was over, fine. Dean came first and was Sam's priority, not Kevin who was warded and protected and could walk back to the car Sam had abandoned and drive himself home when all was sunny and blue-skyed.

Fatigue from mental stress and weariness from lack of sleep hit him hard and the effort it took to climb the stairs caused him to stumble and stub a toe when his squishy sock slid on the wood step. He grabbed the railing to keep from falling and paused to catch his breath. Driven by the fact, that finally, his brother was a door away, he ignored his own discomfort, shoved his own misery aside and pushed on until he reached the top of what was surely the steepest, longest staircase _ever._

"Dean?" he grabbed the first doorknob he came to and flung the door open.

***000***

Dean thought he was awake, in fact, he was sure he was, quite sure…..for he remembered that god awful wallpaper but he decided rather quickly, he'd rather not be. Christ almighty, he felt wasted. He tossed and turned and rolled, kicking free of the blankets, finally on his back, pillow gone missing, and though he'd finally achieved his goal, he didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt worse….. mouth dry, aching head, sore throat, swollen tongue, fuzzy teeth – Christ, he really needed to stop drinking – well – he needed to stop drinking the cheap, bottom shelf liquor, he was too old to wake up feeling like this.

"Way to go Dean." he muttered, wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

One hand holding his stomach, and his palm against his forehead, he slowly sat up. He had to wait for the dizziness to subside and his head to clear before he could swing his feet off the bed to…where the_ fuck_ was the _floor_?! Toes splayed, he gingerly extended his foot, stretching his leg from his hip while keeping his ass on the mattress – nothing. Aww, shit; letting his foot drop and dangle, he flopped down on his back and rolled to his belly. Scooting until his chin rested on the edge of the mattress on the opposite side, he dangled a limp hand, nope, no floor over there either.

His head did not take the change in elevation well and recruited his stomach to join its displeasure. Bathroom, he needed the bathroom. He raised his head to look around the room, eyes searching for a second door…oh right…..there wasn't one. No, wait….there was…..just…..not here….somewhere else, he had to….had to leave the room….yes, it was down a hallway. Right, he'd have to walk…ooooh, god….he didn't feel good, sticky and hot and thirsty. His belly demanded the trash can and his mind retorted he'd left it in the missing bathroom – on the other end of that long hallway.

Gritting his teeth, holding his breath, allowing the groan of discomfort, he pushed up with his palms, paused, and then eased onto his hip. Where the hell was he? He slowly looked about the room; right, the curio shop, how had he gotten here again? His eyes, dry and itchy, caught sight of the mirror and widened at his reflection. Good GOD! What the hell had happened to him? His lips! What was the matter with his lips!? And his cheeks…what, was he now a chipmunk storing food for the winter? Wait….he could see, yes, yes indeed, certainly he could see…..but where were his eyes? He had to have eyes to see, didn't he? Was this a spell? A curse? A hex? A joke? What was going on? Where was he? What had happened to him? Who had done this to him?

Sam? No, but…someone…ooh-ooh-ooh…..Kevin, it had definitely been Kevin.

"KEVIN!" he roared, then coughed. "KEVIN!" he shouted again, then frowned. Was he mute? Was he saying anything? Were words coming out of his mouth? Why couldn't he hear himself? "Hey." he tested his voice then cleared his throat. "Hey….hello….hello?" huh, nothing. Oh crap, couldn't be good. He looked around, the nightstand next to the bed was within reach, but there was nothing solid on it which to throw at the door, just a box of tissues. And of course, as soon as he saw them, his nose began to run. Leaning to his right, bearing his weight on his arm against the mattress, he snagged the box and plucked several free.

Sam flung the third door he'd come to open with such force, it hit the wall, bounced back and was kicked with a foot, followed by a muffled curse. Dean meekly peeked over the fluff of tissues, puffy, hooded eyes not having enough oomph to widen.

"Thammy?"

"Hey Dean." by all outward appearances he was calm, but internally? Well, his pulse raced and his heart thumped and his throat was thick and his brain was mad at his eyes because they were taking too long to survey the man on the bed and relay all they saw. He had to fist his hands to keep from rushing the bed and enveloping this brother in a huge hug. "Looking kinda shitty there dude."

"Thammy, I beil naw-ful." he stuck a foot out. "An' me 'eet non't etch e 'or!"

Despite his heaving chest, Sam fought a grin and lost. His lips twitched and the corner of his mouth curled in amusement. "What's that again Dean?"

"Puke!"

"Right….sure, here use the ….." Sam frowned, no trash can was to be found. "All this crap and no trash can?"

"I…..nost it."

"You lost the trash can?" Sam questioned, already backing up and grabbing the one next to the table in the hallway. "Here…..use this one."

Dean reached with both hands and hugged it close. He sat in the middle on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him and spread his knees to hold the trash can between his thighs, looking like a three-year old playing with a toy drum. Sam backed out into the hallway to give him privacy.

"Well?" Kevin demanded. "You still leaving?"

Sam turned around, only slightly mollified by having Dean within his grasp and still angry with Kevin. He sighed, silently admitting Kevin was right, they weren't going anywhere. Now that he had calmed down and was able to think rationally, he knew there was no way they'd be crossing the river until the water covering the bridge receded and it was safe to do so.

Kevin flung open a door. "My room has twin beds."

"No other rooms available?"

"The family is on the third floor and the other two on this floor don't have fireplaces."

"And I need a fireplace, why?"

"Heat."

"What? We have…." the whole house shuddered, the windows rattled and everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Howdy-Ho Everyone! Where on the heck did the month of December go? Yesterday was Thanksgiving, tomorrow Christmas so...

To all A Very Merry Christmas!

* * *

Dean held the trash can with one hand and the other held his throat, for surely it had crawled into his mouth and engaged his tongue in a war to prevent being pushed back to where it belonged. Lordy-Lordy-Lordy but he did not feel well. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? Sitting upright wasn't helping him feel any better and trying to recall what was going on made him dizzy. Fog and cobwebs crisscrossed his memory and muddled his ability to think coherently but what the hell; he closed his eyes, scrunched his nose, furrowed his brow and gave it his all.

He'd been stung by bees – repeatedly. By lots and lots of bees; fucking huge bees, the biggest-ass bees he'd ever seen. He'd been at the bunker with Kevin, not Sam who had…well, he hadn't been there so he'd allowed Kevin to remove the stingers – he frowned, fingers massaging his temple over his left eye – bees left stingers? Huh! Well, then what? Oh right, he'd gone to lie down because he hadn't really felt well because having numerous bee-stingers ruthlessly plucked and dug and cut from one's skin _hurt_…...but Kevin couldn't leave him alone. Oh hell no, the kid had come barging in, blathering on about allergies and allergic reactions being lethal and bee venom causing renal failure and any hope Dean had of controlling the situation was lost. Kevin had been frantic, arms flapping like a ducks wings when taking flight from the water.

Dean didn't know what the kid had been so worried about, he wasn't allergic to bee stings, just apple seeds and somewhere, he had, or had had at one time, an epipen but either he hadn't made Kevin understand or the kid hadn't cared, because no epipen had been found – or searched for – and there'd been a car ride, and the ER, then the ER floor, which apparently got you immediate attention for he'd woken up on a table – he growled, without his clothes, damn hospitals always wanted you naked, it's why he hated them – an ambulance – could that be right? An ambulance ride…needles and tubes and more needles and another car ride with Kevin driving again….and then…..and then….nothing.

No, no, wait. There'd been rain and wind and mud and more rain, a lot of rain…an old man dressed in yellow….he giggled; had he gone upstairs to kiss a fellow? No, wait, that'd been Cinderella, hadn't it? And wasn't it a chant to a jump-roping game? Yeah, he probably shouldn't know that. Oh-oh, his mind was wandering – again – and he was losing his ability to retain it. He looked around, eyes bleary, vision blurry but even so, nothing was familiar. He _most_ certainly wasn't home, so where the hell was he, how had he gotten there, why was he there and was he still with Kevin?

His nose twitched then wrinkled, then ran as the smell wafting up from the trash can assaulted his nostrils. His stomach soured and threatened another rebellion so he set the can on the mattress behind him, plucked tissues from the box on the nightstand and gingerly slid to the edge of the mattress – wait! – he dangled a foot and tapped empty air by rotating his ankle until his toes connected with the wooden stool. Ah-ha! Not falling for that again. The floor was further away than it should be, his hip wasn't about to let him forget his last attempt of getting out of bed, and this time he wasn't going to add yet another bruise to his already black and blue, red-spotted, needle-punctured, swollen body.

The fit Sam had thrown when Dean had gotten his ass handed to him would be considered mild compared to the epic meltdown Sam would have if he could see him now. He giggled again; holy hell, the not-so-jolly giant would birth a freakin' cow! His nose blew bubbles and he wiped at it with the back of his hand, belatedly realizing what his other hand held was tissues. He groaned, holding his head with both hands, tissues forgotten. He really needed to stop giggling. He didn't giggle. Why was he giggling?

His legs were shaky but held his weight as he stepped from the stool to the floor, fingers still gripping the sheet on the mattress. His feet were bare and floor was cold and he couldn't help but hop. Panting and breathing hard from the exertion of hopping, he finally found a carpet where, still holding to the mattress and not knowing why, he leaned over so he could peek beneath the bed. Nope, despite the multitude of room, nothing was hiding under there. He started to straighten up when with a shudder, the room went dark. He reeled, thrown off-balance by the sudden darkness and crashed head first into the nightstand.

***000***

A light flashed and the hallway was lit by a hand-held flashlight. "Your own supply, huh." Kevin commented as Sam flashed the beam down the hallway to each door, towards the stairs then up the hallway to the flight of stairs that led to the third floor, searching for a threat that wasn't there.

"What?" Sam asked absently, more than a bit annoyed over this latest development.

"It's the weather Sam, you know, the storm." Kevin said. "Loss of power was expected."

Sam shrugged, thoughts elsewhere. He wanted to be warm and dry, wanted a hot shower and clean clothes, wanted a hot meal and a comfortable bed but nope, it wasn't to be. At least, not yet, like it or not, he had both an obligation and a responsibility to see that all inhabitants of the house were safe and prepared for a night without heat or electricity. He harrumphed, now where had that thought come from? How the hell had it become his job? Well, maybe it was because no matter where he went or where Dean was, trouble followed them and more often than not, they brought danger and evil with them.

His priority was Dean, and keeping from him their situation was top of his list. Should the stubborn ass become aware of their predicament – being stranded in a freak storm with Kevin, away from the safety of the bunker – he'd insist on either helping with whatever needed to be done or finding a way to leave. Well, Sam frowned, he might if he had an inkling what the hell was going on.

Sam scowled when voices were heard coming up the steps, their intimate arrival preceded by a beam of light. "Great." he pulled the door to Dean's room closed. "Kids? There are kids staying here?" he thumbed at the space on his forehead between his eyebrows. All this scowling and frowning was giving him a headache. Yeah, that was it, had nothing to do with lack of sleep, no food, stress and concern or the tension from driving in the shitty weather that had raged on for what, over twenty-four hours now? Nuh-uh.

"I didn't know."

"Jesus Kevin..."

"Don't look at me like that!" Kevin said defensively. "It's not my fault. How can you think it's my fault?"

"You brought him here."

"And you drove here! The motel was skeevy, not to mention full and yeah, couldn't afford the friggin' resort. You think it'd been better, I shudda parked in their parking lot and waited this storm out in the car? Did you see anywhere else to stay? "

"I don't even know how the hell you got to the state of Nebraska!"

"Yeah, well, me neither." Kevin mumbled, hanging his head.

"And what the hell's with you? Blathering on about rock salt and cutting off heads of vampires? Rule number one Kevin, we don't talk about what we do!"

"Yeah, okay, fine. How about first, you teach me not to panic when you're all bat-shit crazy?!"

Sam sighed, reaching out to give Kevin's shoulder a comforting squeeze. He well knew how difficult living with Dean was, the kid was doing his best and if Sam were to be honest, he'd done a damn good job so far. He'd known Dean had needed a doctor, had gotten him both, to a hospital and to accept treatment and though he may have gotten lost trying to return home…..the bunker wasn't easy to find…he'd gotten Dean to comfort and safety. And though Sam wanted to blame the kid for this entire mess, it truly wasn't his fault.

"Has he eaten anything?" Sam regrouped and asked.

"No." Kevin replied glumly, staring at the floor. "I offered but he refused and I didn't know whether or not to push and I didn't know how to make him and…."

"What about meds?"

"I have what the doctor gave me, but I wasn't able to get his prescriptions filled."

"Has he taken any?" Sam asked impatiently. "What are they anyway? What are they for?"

"Yeah, earlier today, but…."

Clomp, clomp, thud, grunt, sounds of playful slapping, ineffective sssh's and more clomping and the family of four crested the last step.

"See! I told you! It was Conan!"

"Shush, now…don't disturb the other guests."

The two boys crowded around Sam who stood guard outside Dean's closed door in the hallway. "Where's your sword dude?"

"Wow! You sure are tall!"

"Your rooms are on the third floor." Kevin interrupted the chattering two-some because neither parent attempted to move their irritating offspring along. "Keep going."

"Here now." Edith was behind them with a lantern flashlight. "Earl and Pete will be along shortly with fire wood. Are you still leaving or have you decided to stay?" she asked Sam, handing out key-chain size flashlights.

"I'll be staying ma'am." Sam shivered, still dripping. "I'll share Kevin's room."

"That'll be fine." she nodded her agreement with his decision. "Both beds are made and may I say, wise decision? No one should be out in that weather tonight." she clucked her tongue. "Haven't seen the river but I know from past experience, the bridge must be underwater."

"It was when I walked across it." Sam admitted. "Dean's not too settled and I don't want to take him out in this rain so, guess I wait until the weather clears."

"Well then, best you get out of those wet clothes. I can't wash them until the power comes back on, but I'll get them soaking so the mud doesn't set in. I'll get you a robe."

"I have a change of clothing in the car." Sam said, plucking his wet t-shirt from his damp skin with a sign of resignation, he didn't relish going back outside.

"Surely, you don't mean to walk back to the bridge and attempt to cross it?" she gasped aghast, hand to her heart. "No, I won't hear of it. It's dark and the wind could bring down a branch right on your head!" she shook her head. "I forbid it."

Sam smiled, envisioning her stomping her foot for dramatic effect. "No ma'am. I have clothes in my brother's car."

"Oh, I see." she conceded with a nod of her head, granting him her permission to retrieve his clothes. ""Well then, that's fine."

Sam hesitated, recalling they were some distance out in the middle of nowhere. "Is there water or are you on a well?"

"A well." she gave him a sympathetic smile. "We have rain barrels to fill buckets of water to flush and if needed, there's an outhouse just beyond the barn but I doubt it will be needed, there's no shortage of water." she gave a chuckle of mirth. "I'll heat some water while you retrieve your clothes and while you wash up, I'll rustle you up something to eat."

"Thank you." so in addition to lugging wood up the stairs all night to heat two bedrooms – he slanted an eye at the father of the two most annoying brats he'd ever met – two flights of steps and four bedrooms, he'd be hauling water as well.

"I'll get you a towel, some soap and a blanket."

The family moved on their way and Edith descended the steps and was out of sight when a thud from behind the still closed door of Dean's room caused both Sam and Kevin to lunge for the door knob.

"DEAN?" Sam barreled past Kevin, shoving him aside and causing him to stumble and fall against the wall. He flung the door open and fell through, Kevin hopping about trying to see over or under Sam's shoulder or around him. "What the…..?"

A lot of things in life amazed Sam, most dumbfounded him and some, such as Dean's ability to injure himself resulting in the rapid onset of symptoms comprised of but not limited to, heavy bleeding, immediate bruising and instant swelling, remained forever beyond his comprehension. 'Cause really, the fool couldn't have fallen out of bed and cracked his head more than seconds ago, and already his left temple where he'd struck the sharp corner of the nightstand was split, bleeding, and sporting an egg-sized swollen lump with his forehead showing promise of a severe bruise.

"I'll go ask Edith for some ice." Kevin sighed but then brightened. At least Sam was now there to take care of Dean and he wouldn't have to.

"Grab his feet and help me get him on the bed." Sam said wearily, moving the trash can to the floor and using a foot to push Dean over to his back. He'd have to see to Dean before he could shed his wet, muddy clothes, wash up, dress comfy and sit down to eat. It was going to be a long – very long – night. "Ask her for some warm water and a soft cloth." he shone the light over the crumpled body at his feet, following the trickle of blood down his cheek where it separated like a Y, one path behind his ear, the other down past his jaw "Several soft cloths." he amended with a sigh. "Great."

He glanced around the room for something to use to keep Dean from bleeding all over the bed. Tissues were plentiful and within reach but worthless. He reached over and snagged a pillow, quickly shaking it free of its case then used it to clumsily wipe the blood from his brother's face before making a sloppy makeshift bandage. Good enough, though should Dean move his head with any force, it would fall off, only tucked behind his year like a woman with long hair keeping it out of her face.

"Do you need antiseptic?" Kevin squatted down to lift with his knees, not his back. Dean was by no means a light-weight. "Good God!" he lifted, grunted, stood and tossed Dean's dead weight _up _onto the bed. Damn, that bed was friggin' _high_ off the floor.

"We have a first aid kit in the car." Sam replied absently, settling Dean more comfortably on the bed than the position in which Kevin had dropped him. "With an LED lantern. I'll need the light to see how bad it is."

"I'll see what Edith has." Kevin said miserably. He hoped she would have what was needed to treat a Winchester injury but was resigned to dashing out to the car. He hugged his robe close, maybe Peter would let him borrow his boots and slicker. "Sam? You ok?"

"Yeah, hurry up." flashlight between his teeth, Sam probed with his thumb and finger at the bloody flap of skin over his brother's eyebrow. He wasn't too worried, head wounds bled a lot and despite the swelling and bruising, he was quite sure Dean wouldn't require stitches.

His eyes fell on the robe lying across the bed bench, he was wet and cold and shivering…..so screw it. He glanced at Dean, decided he would be fine left alone for a moment, and dashed down to the bathroom, robe in hand, where he shed his clothes, dried off with a towel and wrapped up in the robe, toweling his hair dry. Leaving his clothes in the tub, he returned to Dean's room.

"Never make anything easy for me do you?" Sam sighed. Dean hadn't regained consciousness, hadn't even moved, Kevin had yet to return and the room remained dark and would soon be cold. "Course not." he went over to the fireplace and shone the flashlight at the grate then set about getting a fire going. He could keep the room warm while waiting for Kevin to return with the requested supplies so he could take care of Dean's most recent contribution to the night from hell.

***000***

Kevin found Edith in a room off the kitchen where clothes were soaking in a large cement sink. Kevin shone his light over the sink then dipped a finger in….water was warm so she must have heated water somewhere. Sam's coat, his plaid shirt and….his jeans, huh where had Edith found those? He snickered, what was it with clothes disappearing and robes appearing? Edith was on her knees, head and shoulders deep in a cupboard, setting candles and lanterns and oil lamps and flashlights around her on the floor. A variety of batteries followed as well as several large bottles of lamp oil, wicks, boxes of matches, and lighters.

"Aah…..Mrs…..um…ma'am?"

"I'll have your rooms set up with light in a jiffy." her cheerful muffled voice came from within the cupboard. "Pete and Earl are bringing the pails in from the barn and will leave several in each bathroom. I have some water heating on the stove so your friend can wash up. Do you need help lighting the fire in your room?"

"Huh?" hell, he hadn't given his room any thought but a nice well-fed fire would be welcome. "Oh…no….Dean, he um, fell out of bed….Sam needs…"

"Oh My Goodness!" her head popped out and she pulled herself to her feet with aid of the cupboard. "Is he all right? Did he hurt himself? Oh, that poor boy just isn't having a good day is he?"

"Not a good couple of days." Kevin muttered under his breath. "Uh, yeah…he did….No, no, no…..don't worry. Sam's taking care of him. I need to run out to the car and get the first aid kit. Do you think maybe I could borrow Pete's rain slicker?"

"Oh, of course you can. He's wearing his good one, but we have extras." she stepped over the various piles on the floor. "I have a first aid kit. I'll take it right upstairs." she scurried into the kitchen. "What did he do?"

"Smacked his head." he didn't elaborate that Dean had split his temple open and knocked himself out. Not because he thought it wasn't any of her business, but because it didn't occur to him to do so. "Sam asked for some hot water and soft cloths."

"Absolutely." she nodded. Busy with her mission of gathering first aid supplies, her former mission of gathering 'loss of power supplies' was forgotten. "Now, let's see…." arms full with various towels and cloths, boxes and bottles tucked under her arm or cradled in the crook of her elbow, she used her shoulder to nudge open the freezer. "Does he require ice?"

Kevin snapped his fingers then smacked his forehead. "Yes!" he sprang forward and grabbed the bowl she indicated from the counter and filled it with ice from the freezers ice maker. "Ahh….." he held it, awkwardly searching for a way to add it to the pile in her arms.

"Don't you fret. He'll be just fine." her arms full, she patted Kevin with her finger tips, then took the bowl with them, asked him to tuck a flashlight under her chin, directed him to the closet that housed boots and slickers and hurried off.

"Sure." Kevin said to the empty room, feeling isolated and alone. "He'll be fine. He's always fine." he found the closet, donned the outdoor weather garments and let himself out the back door. He was across the lawn and reaching for the door handle of the car before it occurred to him he might need the car keys. He didn't, which was a good thing, because he had no idea where he'd left them.

He found a duffel bag with clothes on the back seat and slung it over one shoulder. He didn't care who the clothes belonged to, they were the only ones he found and he wasn't coming back out. He swung the back door shut and opened the driver's door to pop the trunk. Wow. He paused to study the storm that continued to rage on with no signs of abating. The sky was dark, the clouds multiple without gaps, no hint of sky to be seen. The wind tore at the trees and bushes and shrubs, the rain alternated between heavy downpours, hail, sleet – yes, sleet – and thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.

Shaking his head, Kevin found the first aid kit in an old army-green sack and closed the trunk. The likes of this storm were nothing he'd ever seen before, it'd been raging on without pause for what, twenty some hours now? Wow, had it been just yesterday that it'd been warm and sunny with Dean playing outside, resulting in a trip to the ER, a detour, and holing up in frilly, feminine B&B? Really?

A gust of wind tore at his slicker, exposing his legs to the icy rain. His musings about odd weather came to an abrupt end and he took off for the security of the house. He saw the barn in a flash of bright lightning, but didn't see either Pete or Earl. Perhaps they were already inside. The house was near the woods, but no trees were close enough to the house to crush it should one become uprooted. Well, that made him feel slightly better.

***000***

"Sam, is it?" Edith knocked with her toe. "Hello?" the door was ajar and she completed the open swing her toe had started. "Oh, you started the fire! How delightful! You must have been a boy scout!" she let her arms drop their load on the dresser then began to set the items to rights in the order she felt they'd be needed.

"Uh….yeah, sure." he rolled his eyes, boy scout, yeah, right. "Um….we're fine. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

"Oh pish." she waved him off. "Now what happened? Kevin said he fell out of bed?"

"I…."

"Hit his head, did he? Don't you worry, head wounds always bleed a lot." she assured him with a pat on his arm. He sat on the bed, well, had a hip perched on the mattress and even his long leg only brushed the floor. "I'm going to toddle off and find my ice bag, and bring up a pan of hot water, be right back."

Sam slid to the floor and stepped over to the dresser. "Why is the bed so high from the floor?" hmm, she had a decent notion of first aid supplies. He picked up a soft white cloth and a bottle of warm water…yeah, he was going to need more.

"Isn't it the loveliest furniture?" she gushed. "That bed is genuine 17th century. See the wood overtop? We softened it with a white canopy but the carvings and wood work was all done by hand." she was positively beaming. "Goes well with the style of this house, don't you think?"

No, not really, Sam thought. The house was not from the 17th century, hell Nebraska hadn't even existed then and while the house was Victorian in design, 17th century furniture was not but she had 'toddled' off. It wasn't until she returned he realized he'd never received an answer to his question regarding the unusual height of the bed. Well, it could be due to modern day mattress. A pillow-top could be as deep as 24", and take in to account the mattress would be sitting on box springs and…but still…that didn't explain why the bed itself could harbor a moose beneath it. He grinned…a moose. Hee-hee-hee!

"Do you need my help?" she set a pan of water on the nightstand and the ice bag on the dresser. "Is he the restless type? I could hold his hand while you clean his wound."

"No…no….he'll be fine. Thank you."

Dean was content to remain in blissful oblivion. His skin didn't itch or smart or burn and his hip didn't throb and his head didn't hurt and his stomach didn't hate him and his throat wasn't rebelling and he could breathe without his chest aching and his nose didn't run…..but….no,no,no,no,no,no….oh bloody hell no. His head hurt badly enough…no help was needed to make it feel worse and…..what the_ hell_ was that?!

"Easy." Sam murmured, dabbing and wiping and rubbing, chasing Dean's lolling head along the pillow with patience. "Dean, hey…come on, cut it out." he used his opposite thumb to hold his brother's head still. "Let me see, you dumb ass." he was trying to be careful but as soft as the cloth was, Dean's eyes were red and dry and swollen, his nose was raw, his lips were cracked and his cheeks and jaw were puffy so scrubbing any part of his face brought forth a whine or a whimper and increasing resistance.

"Sam?" Kevin staggered in, weighted down with the duffel from the car, the duffel Sam had left on the front porch and the sack that had turned out to_ be_ the first aid kit. "What can I do?"

"Gauze." Sam said without looking up.

Kevin set the green sack on the bed bench and unzipped it. Oh sure, the sack contained the usual store-shelf plastic box kit that was in most households but it was full of Band-Aids and a variety of over-the-counter pain relief. Everything else was willy-nilly within the sack: ace bandages and slings and braces and bags to hold ice and cold packs and heat packs, a heating pad and rolls and rolls and rolls of gauze – if Kevin was ever invited to a Halloween party and wanted to go as a mummy, he knew where to find his costume – and tape and towelettes and pads and rolls of cotton and sprays and….smelling salts?...eyewash and wipes and more bandages, antiseptic and burn creams and rubber gloves as well as suture kits, some kind of glue, syringes, strong not-found-on-any-store-shelf pain killers, surgical scissors and scalpels and forceps and tweezers and on and on and...what the hell was that?

"What's this?" Kevin asked, digging through the bag, identifying items as he pawed them aside, discarding that and ignoring this. Wow, they had a lot of shit in one little ole bag.

Sam barely spared him a glance. "Stapler."

"For paper?" Kevin asked stupidly. He was beyond simple comprehension. "Why?"

"Skin."

Kevin swallowed…..yuck. "Okay, so is this the skin stapler remover?" he shuddered, odd-looking pliers dangling from his thumb and forefinger tips. "Ew!"

"Gauze Kevin." Sam ground out through gritted teeth.

"Right….yeah…..okay, got it." he held a roll in one hand, square pads in the other. "Here….is he….he okay?"

"Hit his head pretty hard." Sam commented absently, chewing on his lip. He'd hoped by now his brother would have come around but other than moving his head away in protest of Sam's ministrations, he remained unresponsive. "Guess he has to be, can't get him out of here."

Kevin eyed the pan of red water, gaze moving to where Sam held a folded cloth to the wound on Dean's forehead. "Still bleeding then?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Kinda hoping he wouldn't need stitches."

"Then…Yay! You don't have to. You can staple him!" Kevin waggled the stapler with a cheeky grin that was met with a flat stare. "Maybe not."

"Hand me the Dermabond." Sam said with a tired sigh, the weight of the world - his world anyway - on his shoulders.

"The what?"

"Adhesive." Sam peeked under the cloth.

"Aah….." he waved his hands, helpless to understand what Sam meant. "Tape, you mean?"

"Glue Kevin, its glue. Can you identify glue?" Sam snapped impatiently, beginning to become concerned Dean remained unconscious and losing patience with a dense Kevin.

"You know…" Kevin began. "Just say glue. Okay? Can you speak plan English to me? Is it that hard?" Band-Aids and gauze and rolls of tape fluttered towards Sam's head as an agitated Kevin threw his hands up. "A first aid kit in the house I grew up in held Band-Aids and Neosporin…..not suture kits and human staplers and skin glue!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Sam demanded.

"YOU! THIS! HIM!" Kevin began to pick up what he'd inadvertently thrown. "I'm a little stressed out here Sam! Killer bees and life-threatening allergic reactions and epic storms and being responsible for _him_ were not taught in advanced placement classes! So, yeah, it's all a little much!"

"He never should have been outside in the first place." Sam replied heatedly. "He was supposed to remain in bed."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should have made him understand that." Kevin retorted. "I tried. I'm trying here Sam. It's not easy, he's not easy, you know?"

"Uh, yeah Kevin. Yeah, I kinda do. My whole life…..so yeah, I know."

"And none of it's your fault? Yeah, right….sure. Whatever gets you through your day Sam."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that, you know? Maybe you shouldn't run off and leave him every time you get your panties twisted." Kevin said hotly. "Maybe you should have stayed home with him."

"I can be a bigger dick than Dean, so yeah, go ahead and piss me off Kevin. Just try me."

"How's he doing?" Edith's head poked around the door. "Can I get you anything else? I brought an extra blanket. Kevin, dear, I lit the fire in your room."

"Thank you." Kevin muttered.

"More hot water?" she offered.

"No, bleeding's stopped." finally, Sam thought then added, thankfully. For that meant he could use Dermabond rather than needle and thread. Stitches were better for deeper cuts and were noted for faster healing but Sam could make do with glue. He made a mental note to thoroughly research what medications had been given to Dean at the hospital and see if any had the side effect of excessive bleeding from an open wound. Yes, head wounds bled easily and a lot, but it had taken way too long to get the bleeding to stop.

"Has he woken up yet?" she asked, picking up the pan of dirty water and collecting the cloths Sam had used and discarded. "Poor thing must be simply exhausted. How hard did he hit his head? Did he hurt it?"

"He's hard-headed." Sam said wryly. It would be hard to determine if the ass had suffered a concussion what with the symptoms of the allergic reaction. He'd be more worried if Dean had whacked the back of his head because years of prior experience told him what to expect but still….couldn't rule it out.

"I have a plate ready for you." she said as she headed out the door. "Will you be down soon?"

"Yeah, I still want to wash up." Sam waited until she was gone, then took the glue from Kevin. "Okay dude, easy-peasy if you hold still." he applied the glue, taped a bandage over the wound then reached into the green sack and withdrew a small pen-like flashlight. Kevin squeaked, he hadn't seen it and it was so small - bright though - that he had trouble believing Sam had just pulled it blindly from within the jumbo of, well, medical stuff. Must have been in a side pocket….though Kevin hadn't seen any of those either.

"What do you need that for?" Kevin asked, watching as Sam thumbed open Dean's eye opposite the side he'd hit his head and flashed the light in his eye. He repeated the gesture with the other eye before letting his brother's head go and getting up from the bed. "Oh."

Sam was satisfied Dean wasn't supporting a concussion. Well, fairly satisfied. Both eyes reacted positively to light, though the pupils were slightly unequal in size, the left larger than the right, but that was to be expected and nothing much to fuss over.

Nothing. Much.

He walked over to the armchair in the corner of the room, picked it up and carried it across the room where he placed it next to the bed. "I know you're tired….but I need something to eat." Sam said quietly to Kevin. "Could you just sit here and watch him so I can wash up and eat dinner?"

"Um….." Kevin bit his lip. Sure, he could, and he would, but watch him do what? "Yeah…..sure…..but…..um, why?"

"Just sit with him." Sam handed him the pen light. "Check his eyes….if his pupils are large or one is a lot bigger than the other or he vomits or there's a change in his breathing or he bleeds from either his ears or his nose or you know, throws a seizure…come get me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah….sure….sure I can." how long did Sam intend to take to wash and eat? Good God. Wait, seizure? "What?!"

"He might wake up." Sam continued, Lord, he'd better within the hour or the household would experience a seriously freaked out Sam. "If he's confused or combative, come get me."

"How long are you going to be gone?" Kevin blurted out.

Sam grinned. "An hour or so." he turned the oil lamp down and turned off the LED lantern. Dimness and quiet would be Dean's two best friends for the next day or two.

"It takes you an hour to eat?" Kevin exclaimed in horror, glancing at the burden that would be his for the next hour or so.

"I'm going to see if I can help carry in water and wood. Fires take a lot of wood." Sam pushed Kevin into the chair. "Sit there, and don't take your eyes off him." in other words, words, that I'm not saying, 'don't let him get hurt while on your watch this time'. "Just start yelling if you need me."

That he could do, Kevin had a healthy pair of lungs, and when needed, he could scream like a girl. "Okay….."

Sam settled the ice bag on Dean's swollen forehead and with a pat on Kevin's shoulder, left the room. Kevin snagged the blanket Edith had left and attempted to get comfortable in the prettily decorated yet unpadded chair. Yeah, not gonna happen…..maybe a pillow…..yeah, Dean didn't need all four…there, that was better.

All was nice and quiet, the fire snapped, crackled and popped and the oak wood smelled sooooo good…there was even enough light from it he could read. He frowned, his book was in his room, just across the hall, but Sam had ordered him not to take his eyes off Dean. Perhaps he could back out of the room, leave both doors open, grab his book and return….Sam would never know he'd left darling Dean alone for less than a split second.

No…no…..Sam would know immediately the book hadn't been in the room when he'd left. Well, okay, he needed something to do or he'd fall asleep. Wouldn't Sam just love to return and find Kevin snoring…..yeah…..he'd never live it down. His eyes fell on the sack full of first aid supplies and whatnot. What a word, whatnot. From where did it originate?

Order may not be needed but if Kevin was going to live with the Winchester brothers, knowledge of its contents was. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he moved to the floor and began to unpack the sack. Wow, sure was a lot of stuff…wait…..what was that noise?

"Dean?" he looked up but couldn't see the top of the bed so he got to his feet. Great. Sam gone less than ten minutes and Dean had to give him trouble. "Dean? Hey, you awake?"

* * *

And a special shout-out to those of you who always leave me such kind comments. Have a Safe and Happy New Year! Party Hearty and safely!


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